The last Connor
by Captain Tazer
Summary: Three Terminators arrive in the year 2180 with the intent to terminate a selected group of people. One of the targets is a little girl named Newt. Can a certain Terminator from the past keep her safe? This is an AU crossover story: Aliens with Terminator Genisys - the events of Alien3 did not happen in this timeline. Rated "T" for bad language, child-abuse and a lot of deaths.
1. Arrival

Author's notes: As I am getting nowhere with the sequel to my story 'Alien – Prodigals', I've decided to make a go with this one for the time being as it has been roaming in my mind a lot recently. While I got most of the story in my head, none of it is written down so be prepared that it will be some time between the updates. To prevent a misunderstanding, please note: This is an alternate universe; the events of Alien3 did not happen in this one. This is mostly a Terminator story which involves the human characters from Aliens, so no xenomorphs is expected to show up. Disclaimer: I own neither the Terminator franchise nor Aliens and no money are being made by this!

Enjoy the story.

* * *

The unknown future rolls towards us. And for each moment we pass it, in its wake we will find that it has affected every man, woman and child all in a different way. Some incidents leave only short-term effects while others have caused a change for an individual's life forever. Not even places are immune to changes of the future. Oregon desert was still marked as a natural resort, but tourism of this valley of beautiful landscapes, cliff formations and lakes was today in the late 22: ond century quite scarce. It had simply lost its charm after the Earth's own resources had been depleted and when the Weyland-Yutani Corporation gave mankind the ability to colonize other worlds. No one gave a damn for the mother-world's sceneries anymore –they were old news, so the areas were mostly abandoned and devoid of human presence. That was why there were no immediate eye-witnesses to the incident that happened tonight…

At first everything was calm – there was hardly any breeze in the Oregon desert this evening. But then corns of sand were suddenly picked up, plants were caught in a wind that had started out of nowhere, and then the air was suddenly charged with electricity although there were no storm clouds present in the sky. Blue bolts discharged against boulders and the area suddenly became very hot. And then suddenly out of thin air just above the ground a small ball of energy appeared which in just a second expanded into a giant perfectly shaped sphere which melted and disintegrated everything it came into contact with as it grew. And then as quickly as it had appeared, the bolts of electricity disappeared together with the giant energy sphere. Everything became calm again, only smoke and heated air remained of the mysterious electrical discharge. Within the space that the energy sphere had cleared however, something new was present.

Three figures sat crouched in a perfectly shaped circular hole in the ground. As one, the three men rose to their feet standing at their full heights. They were naked, displaying muscular bodies and cold impassive expressions on their faces. None showed any form of discomfort or any hint of having gone through some strange incident – to them their unexpected arrival in the desert had been completely normal. It was in fact completely indifferent to them, because despite their human appearances, they were not real men. They were in fact cyborgs: underneath the skin they were machines. They were Terminators! The cyborgs each scanned the area. They did not speak; instead they communicated via radio signals between them.

Terminator 1: AREA SECURED! NO HUMAN PRESENT!

Terminator 2: ESTABLISHING LINK TO ORBITAL SATELLITES! CONFIRM DATE AND LOCATION!

Terminator 1: CONFIRMED! DATE: OCTOBER 13, 2180. LOCATION: OREGON DESERT!

Terminator 3: PROCEED WITH MISSION IMMEDIETLY! STEP 1: AQUIRE CLOTHES FOR INFILTRATION!

Terminator 2: PRIORITY: LOCATE SUBJECTS! SUBJECT 1 OF 3! SUBJECT: REBECCA JORDEN!

Terminator 1: ESTABLISH SEARCH FOR A COMPUTER TERMINAL TO LOCATE SUBJECT 1 OF 3!

Terminator 3: PROCEED! LOCATE REBECCA JORDEN! MISSION: TERMINATE!

Without looking at the other, the three terminators walked off, each in its own direction.

* * *

Although there were none present in the immediate area of the desert this evening, the terminators arrival had not gone completely unnoticed. The electrical disturbance had been observed by three different sources. The first one was the Weyland-Yutani Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station in New Mexico. The controller who was monitoring the satellite which presently passed over and scanned Oregon couldn't make out what he was looking at. He found it funny that there was an energy cascade disturbance going on in the middle of the desert where there shouldn't be any electrical system present and the weather was clear. He thought that he should perhaps report this, but then he remembered: if he did, he might have to speak with the head of the special research department! The controller wasn't ready to do that, that guy gave everybody on the base the creeps. The controller thought up for a more logical explanation: it could perhaps be the local scavengers causing the disturbance, the scumbags of Earth who sometimes occupied the area that could be up to something. Maybe they were trying to power up a generator of some kind and it simply went haywire. And that sort of nuisance wasn't worth reporting! The controller figured that if it didn't happen again, then there was probably nothing to be concerned about.

* * *

The second who witnessed the disturbance on a distance was a man. He was a loner by the name of Frank Malone. He lived in a shack in the middle of the desert, simply because he resented the presence and company of other people. Frank was a largely built man who kept mostly to himself, brewing his own brew and planting crops of narcotic weed. Those he sold to customers over the internet and delivered with special hand-picked couriers from the town - that was how he made his money. And if any of the local authorities would show up to investigate his illegal business… Well, there were already five bodies buried somewhere in his soil. This evening as he sat on his porch enjoying some of his own products, he saw in the distance how some energy bolts momentarily flashed above the ridge. Since he knew that the area was devoid of anything mechanic, he was curious to what it could have been. Darkness fell a half hour later and it didn't happen again. But Frank did see that a lone figure was approaching his vicinity, coming from the direction where the flashing had occurred. Cursing, he picked up is heavy rifle and pointed the barrel towards the wanderer. Frank figured that he could at least kill his curiosity first, and then he would decide if the intruder was to be chased away or become a permanent resident six feet under.

"Hey, Buddy! What was that lightshow back there?" Frank called out. The wanderer didn't answer, but he did come closer into view – and what Frank saw disgusted him. The man wore no clothes!

"What are you doing walking around stark naked?" he demanded angrily. "You're not some kind of faggot, are you?" Frank really hated faggots.

The wanderer didn't react to the other's harsh tone. Instead he looked closely at the loner, as if he was measuring him up. That made Frank even more enraged. And then the newcomer finally spoke.

"Surrender your projectile weapon to me."

Frank pumped a round into the barrel. "You can have my gun, when you pry it from my dead hands!"

"Your proposal is acceptable."

It was too bad Frank Malone was a loner. No one would miss him for months.

* * *

The final observer was located in San Francisco. It was actually an automated system which was secretly hacked into the same decipher-program that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation used in the Satellite Receiving Station. Since the pirate-code was only reading and did not try to interfere, the computer jockeys had failed to discover the intrusion. The automated system resided deep inside an abandoned and forgotten bunker within a rock-face that had a nice view over the Golden Gate-bridge. The bunker lay in complete darkness; only the computer's small operating light revealed that there was some kind of activity going on. Usually the computer was dormant, but tonight it registered a disturbance which was similar to the parameters it was programmed to search for. Following its instructions, it sent an activation-signal to a different part of the bunker.

Deep in the darkness there were suddenly two dots of piercing red lights coming online. Had there been someone there to witness it, the person would see that the lights were the eyes of an old battered and seemingly heavily damaged robot skeleton, hanging suspended on a rack above the floor. The newly activated machine received the information the computer sent it and it immediately began to process the data, assessing what it meant.

ELECTRICAL DISTURBANCE DETECTED IN OREGON DESERT! ENERGY FIELD CONSISTENT WITH THE POWERSOURCE OF SKYNET'S TIME DISPLACEMENT UNIT! INVESTIGATION NECESSARY! CHARGING ALL SYSTEMS TO FULL POWER! APPLY POLYALLOY COVER!

Underneath the machine, a sealed vat opened and revealed a silvery liquid substance within. The liquid moved seemingly on its own and then it rose from the vat as if something was pushing the thick substance upwards from within. The liquid came into contact with the damaged robot torso above and it floated all over it, covering it completely. When all of the liquid was in place it took on a more humanoid appearance, shaping into a three-dimensional image with delicate features like pronounced facial marks, creases, brow and hair. Once the shape was finished, the shiny silver took on a different color – the color of human skin. The transformation was finished and the being was disconnected from the rack, standing straight. It was now a perfect undistinguishable shape of a man in his sixties – he was even clothed.

The man walked to a different section of the bunker. He pulled off the tarpaulin from an object standing in the corner, making dust fly in the process as he revealed an old but primed conditioned motorcycle. The man took a moment to open some safe-boxes, unpacking the contents of several guns and ammos which he loaded into the bags of the MC. Satisfied with the amount, he flipped a switch which opened the main door to the bunker, revealing the starlit sky of San Francisco. The man mounted the bike, started it up and took off into the night – destination: Oregon desert. After nearly 150 years, the terminator known as Pops rode again.


	2. A miserable life

The following morning on the outskirts of Oregon desert, the priest Father Patrick was opening up his church to prepare for another day of service for God. Most likely it would be another lonely day, the people of this generation that remained in the neighborhood didn't seem to have it in them to give their tribute to the lord – drugs, sex and rap-music was what acted as their deity these days. The priest had long given up giving a prayer for those lost souls after he had come to the realization that the young ones would never want to follow the path of a believer which in Father Patrick's mind was a path to fulfillment, but it was their decision to make. What grieved him was that the same rule also seemed to apply for the parents. Surely God should mean something to the older generation? Apparently not. Well, Father Patrick had his belief and he was convinced that in the service of God, he would have a good long and prosper life, unlike the non-believers.

The priest opened up the shutters to the window, and the sight that greeted him on the outside gave him a shock. A man was approaching the church. Maybe that ordinarily wouldn't have been so strange, but what was unnatural with this situation was that the man was completely bare, no protection to his skin at all. If he had walked through the cold night of the desert like that, then the pour soul must've caught a nasty cold. Father Patrick hurried outside – it was after all his duty to offer aid to the souls who needed it.

"My son, what happened to you?" the priest addressed the newcomer. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." the other replied shortly. He didn't seem to have fared badly at all; it was like his nudity was an indifferent matter to him. The newcomer looked around and spotted a car that stood parked on the lot beside the church. "I require your vehicle."

The man gave the priest a bad feeling, but he couldn't deviate from his duty. "I cannot lend you the wheels of the church, my son, but I will be happy to give you a ride to town."

The naked man looked at the priest with a stale expression on his face. "That won't be necessary."

When the car left the premises a few minutes later the church was on fire, becoming the late Father Patrick's own crematorium.

* * *

Washington State University was back in the nineties ranked as one of the top 140 universities in America, well known for its programs in chemical engineering, veterinary medicine, agriculture, pharmacy, neuroscience, food science, plant science, business, architecture, and communications. That was probably why the Weyland-Yutani Company bought it some several years ago. They were always eager to find new talents and give them the education necessary for the sake of providing new ideas which could help Weyland to one day rule the market completely and become the world's most dominating corporation – to take the students under their care was a way to imprint the loyalty to the company. After the takeover of the school however, the conditions for applications were changed. Only the elites of all nationalities were accepted; the best and the brightest with the most innovative ideas who had managed to earn the scholarship awards required to fund their further education. But the wealthy students of all ages were accepted as well, those who had rich parents who could raise the money which matched the prices the company had set for teaching their children. It was considered a status-mark to have attended in the Washington State University and the wealthy never passed up an opportunity to show the world what they could afford.

And finally there were the special cases… there weren't many of them, but those that fell under that category were only allowed to attend the university in exchange for certain favors, deals or in order to settle matter of circumstances that sometimes weren't entirely legal. The students of the special cases did not have it easy – those were the pick-bones for taunts and bullying from the 'regular' students as they were not considered to be of their sort. Top students and their parents alike always complained that their 'special' kids were mixed with the lower classes of society as they felt it was an insult to their own level. Those lower-levels weren't intelligent or wealthy enough to be there. Fact was, the parents feared that the presence of lower-class children would hold their own kids back in school and that wouldn't look good to their names. So when reports of bullying of the special cases reached the ears of the parents to the top students, they always turned the blind side to it. It was only good if the special cases were driven away; they were nothing but germs in their eyes.

Seven year-old Rebecca Jorden was one of the special cases. And the reason for it was because she was the only survivor of a terraforming colony on the remote world designated LV-426 which had been destroyed in a disaster a little over a year back. Having been brought back to Earth, (a world she knew nothing about as she had been born in the colony,) the representatives of the Weyland-Yutani Company declared that since they were responsible for the people they had put on that planet, they were going to make sure that the young child would get a fresh new start in life with a good education all payed by them – it was by their standards a compensation for the trauma she had suffered for having lost her parents and suffering through a rough ordeal. So they had put her there in one of the best school's in Washington – the choice was even more logical as it happened that Rebecca's grandparents lived nearby. It was under her mother's parent's care she lived now, and they were most grateful for the generosity the Company had displayed – they would never have been able to raise the funds for having their grandchild attend one of the finest schools in America. But they had all underestimated the young child: she knew quite well what the true reason was. It wasn't by generosity or responsibility that the Company had put her there – no, it was all to make sure that she stayed silent!

The official report was that the colony on LV-426 had been destroyed when a nuclear-powered atmosphere-processing station had gone haywire and finally blown up, but there was much more to it than that. The true story was that her colony had been overrun by horrible monsters that had slaughtered all of her people, a fact that the Company was well aware of since it had been one of their operatives who had orchestrated for the monsters to be released – Rebecca had only survived because she had hid from them inside the air-ducts. It was a brand of creatures the Company had been trying to get their hands on for years and they had deliberately sacrificed a lot of people and material in the attempt. It was a fact that the Company could not risk would go out to the public, so they've had taken extreme actions to make sure it all remained quiet.

The first step had been taken as early as upon their arrival to Earth: Rebecca hadn't even been roused from her cryo-sleep before she had been separated from her rescuers by company representatives and put in isolation to be properly 'processed'. The girl hadn't been very cooperative; she only wanted to return to the people who had saved her, especially to a woman she had become quite taken to. But she had been told by the doctors that it was best that she never saw them again – it was part of a therapy-process that she needed so that she could learn to cope with her loss by herself and together her true relatives if she was to heal and become independent – especially where the creatures were concerned! _They weren't real_ she had been told. They were all imagined in her mind to handle the guilt she'd felt because she was the only one who had survived! Staying together with her rescuers would only make her remain in that fantasy and would not allow her to differ between reality and imagination! Rebecca knew that was just hogwash but to her major disappointment, Ripley, the woman she had grown to love seemed to _agree_ with them. Four days into her isolation Rebecca received a note from Ripley that said goodbye and good luck. Ripley had gotten her ICC license back and would shortly head back into space. She had done her duty and helped rescue her so now it was time to move on. It was best for all of them if they did that each on their own. The girl had taken that goodbye hard. _She wanted nothing to do with me._ All sense of hope for the future had left her that day, and then after a week of isolation her grandparents had come to pick her up.

Life with her grandparents seemed okay at first – until she learned what kind of people they were. Her mother's mom and dad were extremely religious; they radically believed that God had his hand in everything and it was their duty to give the lord their eternal love and respect. They were convinced that it was by the will of God that Rebecca had survived the disaster and had been returned to replace their daughter who had turned her back on them by leaving Earth behind to go out into space to live with a man they had not approved of. Rebecca had tried to tell them what really had happened, but the grandparents would not hear of it. They went along with the Company that the monsters were nothing but imaginations. When the child had tried to give the theory that the monsters may have been a product of the devil, she had received a slap in the face and was told to never speak of such atrocity under their roof. Their house was in their opinion a gift from God and they would allow nothing related to the unholy to be conjured up and taint their sanctuary. The girl wasn't even allowed to keep her nickname, the name she had grown accustomed to and which she always had identified herself with. They would absolutely not call her Newt. A newt was a lizard, and that could be associated with a snake – in this case, the snake that tempted Eve with an apple. So the child was called Rebecca, plain and simple.

Her life was now a simple one: not simple as in easy to live in but simple as in life without temptations to disturb the daily routine. Rebecca believed she understood why her mom had left them. One of the main rules was that she was not allowed to use foul language (that could earn her a rod to tan her hide) and that she should always show respect to the elders. There was no TV in the house which meant no movies to watch and the household's only computer was heavily restricted. The books in the house were all related to their religion and Rebecca was forced to read the bible at least an hour every day, as if she was a nun in practice in a monastery and she was always to be prepared to help out in the house if she was to earn any food. Each meal was initiated with a grace and she was required to do an evening prayer every time she went to bed. Sundays were the worst: those were totally devoted to be in the church – no exceptions! Rebecca's only escape was her schoolbooks, despite the fact that she hated her school.

From the first day she had set her foot there, Rebecca knew that she would never fit in. The students of Washington State University were all self-righteous as they considered themselves to be the elite of society just because they happened to be talented; they looked down on everybody else who couldn't reach their level. This was especially true among the kids to the wealthy; they took pride in being set for life from the moment of their birth. Rebecca wasn't untalented, back on her planet she actually had very good grades – but it was because of her being from a terraforming colony that they looked down on her: she had the mantra of a worker, not of the elite. So from that moment she had to suffer through taunts on daily basis along with many pranks to make her uncomfortable. This was especially true today: her class had just gone through a session of gymnastics and when she had changed back into her school-uniform after the shower, she found her shoes drenched in a toilet-stool. Thank heavens the water in it was unspoiled at least. Since the university had its strict rule of dressing-code, she had no choice but to put them on. The wet shoes immediately soaked her socks. Sighing and feeling quite undignified, Rebecca went to the lockers to pick up the books for the last class of today. On the way there, some older students deliberately bumped in to her, telling her to not step in their way. She forcibly held back her remark that she actually was keeping space and that they were purposely sidestepping into her - but telling them that would only make it worse next time, she had seen that from some other unfortunate special cases.

Picking up her books from the locker, she pulled up her phone (one of the few useful things the Company had actually provided her) to check her calendar to see that she had marked everything she was required to put in her written essay that was to be handed in now. It looked like she had included all of it. So intently was she looking at her screen that she actually did forget to watch where she was going – suddenly she found herself laying flat on the floor with scraped knees (they were bare because she was wearing a skirt according to the dressing-code) and the papers of her essay strewn all over the area.

"That's right, you little crybaby," she heard a voice over the laughter of other students. "That's your place, right beneath me!" The voice belonged to Bianca Horsepower, Rebecca's main antagonist and the one who had tripped her leg. She was the daughter of the richest industrialist of the county, extremely spoiled and very arrogant. Bianca was unfortunately in her class so she wasn't that much older – but Rebecca happened to be quite small for her age and Bianca was quite the opposite, so her small frame put her at a disadvantage. The enemy walked away with her two cronies Kayla and Melissa following closely behind, deliberately stepping on the papers on the floor which left a shoe-print on them. What angered Rebecca the most was that Bianca always got away with this: she was far from the model student that you would expect to find in this university. Bianca's grades were bad and she was hardly paying any attention in class. But because of her wealthy heritage, she was the school's little darling. Bianca always bragged about how her father had told her that the future was hers; she was going to be the most powerful woman in the county with many wealthy bachelors courting her. That's why she felt she really didn't need to go in school – but attending this university looked good on her background, so she was merely biding her time. Her parents were going to buy her the required grades anyway, Weyland's schools was that corrupted.

Rebecca was given a funny look from her teacher when she handed in her essay with footprints on them while the rest of the class snickered at her expense. After suffering through her lesson with at least one occasion of a rubber band being shot at her head, she could finally go home, although she wasn't much looking forward to that either. She always walked home for two reasons: reason number one was that she avoided the school-bus because she did not want to ride together with the ones who bullied her. Reason number two was that she wanted to spend as much time as she could outside to just be with herself because once she got home, the curfew would begin. Since her grandparents believed so firmly in the bible, they were of the view of life that girls were untrustworthy and should therefore not be allowed to run around outside without supervision. Had her brother Tim been around, he would probably not have had those restrictions. Rebecca decided not to tell her grandparents of how her day had been, because if she told them how she was treated, she knew what their answer would be. _Pray to God and he will help you find peace._ That was their standard answer to everything and the one answer Rebecca believed the least in. As it was, there was only one prayer Rebecca ever made, and that was to be released from this miserable life!

* * *

Later on that same afternoon, the terminator named Pops arrived at the coordinates of the registered energy disturbance in the Oregon desert after he had driven non-stop from San Francisco the evening before. Stepping off his motorcycle, he directed his sensors to the perfectly shaped pit in the ground, doing a full analysis. Three sets of bare footprints were visible on the ground leading away from the pit, but none leading to it. That meant that three Terminator units had arrived here, each having walked off in their own direction. Two sets of prints would in a straight line lead to the coast miles from here, but the third one had walked the opposite way inwards the land instead. Pops followed that third set of prints with his sensors as they disappeared into the horizon, and he saw a small cloud of black smoke rising towards the sky on the other side of a ridge. Pops mounted his motorcycle again and headed off in that direction.

Pops soon came to a shack which seemed to have been recently ruined. Under the rubble he could make out the body of a man having been brutally murdered. Pops didn't know who the man was and he didn't seek to find out – it was irrelevant. What mattered was that a terminator had passed this way, most likely stealing clothes and perhaps even weapons. But since terminators were systematic, there was the possibility that it could have attempted to acquire information as well. The shack was surrounded by planted narcotic weeds, which meant that the dead man had been a drug-dealer and those always needed ways to keep in contact with their buyers. Pops searched the rubble and soon found what he was looking for: a smashed-in computer terminal and logically it should have been connected to the internet. Pops discarded the broken cover to the terminal and disconnected the hard-drive and the near-memory cards. They seemed to be somewhat intact; the other terminator had neglected to confirm that it had destroyed them completely.

Ever since Pops had seen his protégée Sarah Connor off into the future together with Kyle Reese through their crude home-made time displacement device back in 1984, he had closely during the years of waiting for their arrival in 2017 followed the development in computer-technology that mankind had achieved. He had found that the use of USB-ports had quite an advantage, so he had actually installed one such port into his own cranial receptor module. Fishing out his set of computer-cables which he always carried with him, Pops plugged one end of the cables into the hard-drive and memory-cards… then he let his poly-alloy cover float clear from the side of his head, revealing the connector-ports within his metal skull. He plugged in the USB-cord and a power-cable to his head, making his own power run the equipment. He skipped the files written on the hard-drive, those were of no interest to him – what he needed to know was what the last search on the web from this terminal had been. Who had the terminator been looking for? It didn't take long for him to find the last entry to the search-motor; he recalled the command that had been put there. One named popped up: Rebecca Jorden, Washington.

PRIORITY ALERT! PRIORITY ALERT!

Rebecca Jorden was not just a random subject; she had a special significance to a history that only Pops had knowledge of today! He could only conclude that the terminators were aware of this as well. The girl Jorden were a target for elimination and the other two terminators was of this moment heading in her direction! Pops disposed of the hard-drive, ignoring to check if there were any other targets searched from there. The terminator that had walked away from the shack was of no importance, it could be dealt with later. But the two units heading for Washington had to be stopped! Pops turned his back to the ruined shack, mounted his motorcycle and took off at the best speed he could muster from the old bike, heading to the coast.

A few hours later he was back on the main road going at his top speed – obviously too fast, because a police-car was suddenly chasing him with noise and light blaring. Finding it an unnecessary distraction, Pops pulled over and stopped, allowing the police-car to catch up and stop in front of him. Two officers stepped out, both with determined expressions on their faces.

"Where's the fire, oldtimer?" one of them asked.

"There's no fire going on," Pops answered. "But I am in a hurry. Therefore, do not occupy me!"

"Is that a fact?" the other officer said. "What's the emergency then?"

"I don't have the time to explain, and I wouldn't expect you to understand anyway. You should just let me be on my way."

"It doesn't work that way, oldtimer!" the first officer said. "Do you have any idea how much you exceeded the speed limit?"

"Yes."

"Really? Are you also aware of that you're not wearing a helmet?"

"I don't need it."

"Are you aware of how much trouble you are in, oldtimer?"

"I'm not. But you are, unless you let me be on my way right now!"

"Is that a threat?" the partner asked.

"It is a fact!"

"You've just earned yourself a pair of brand new bracelets, oldtimer! Step off that bike!" Pops complied and stepped off the bike. "Now let's see those hands!" the policeman continued.

Pops showed them his hands. But he also showed them the gun he was holding in his right one. The two policemen instantly reached for their own side arms when they saw the weapon. "Hey! Hold it…!" they started before Pops fired off four rounds: one for each kneecap. The officers screamed when they dropped to the ground as their wounded legs could no longer support them. Pops left them there whimpering in agony as he once again straddled his bike.

"We're not forgetting who you are, you son of a bitch!" the policemen screamed after him, holding on to their shattered knees. "We will hunt you down and lock you away for the rest of your life for this!"

"Bite me!" was all Pops said as he rode off again.


	3. The arms-dealer

Portland was the significant city of Oregon which lay next to the region border to Washington. It had multicolored facades and the people were often seen walking in fashionable clothes. It was a beautiful city with plenty of green-growths and brick-covered streets – the trams would help you get around everywhere. Unfortunately it also, like with many other cities had its share of criminal activity. It was night-time and in a back-alley there was a young man with piercings in his face; one of those being a big ring sticking out from his nostrils. He was sitting next to a barrel that had a fire burning within, casting both warmth and light in the secluded space. The youngster was busy inspecting his newly-acquired Colt M1911A1 semi-automatic pistol which he had already grown fond of – it was his first and he couldn't wait to use it when he went out hunting for some fools who should know better than to be outside of their homes with their pockets filled. He was soon joined by another young man who came into the alley while smoking a roll of dope.

"Any luck?" the pierced youngster with the gun asked.

"Yep," said the one smoking the dope as he sat down next to the barrel with the fire. "Stumbled into a tourist. Took a little persuasion, but I managed to convince him that he was better off without his wallet." Dope snickered as he fished out both his price and a pocketknife. "The steel never fails me."

"The tourists sure are my favorites," Pierce laughed with him. "They're the ones who always carry some extra cash. But now we're in for a contest: your steel against my iron! Which one do you think will capture the biggest loot?"

"Do you know how to use that thing?" Dope asked a little skeptically. "You only just got it, after all."

"Hey, any idiot can fire a gun!" Pierce retorted a little annoyed.

"The idiots are the ones whom are neglecting to check their guns!" Dope shot back. "You're an amateur after all, since you never had one before! Are you sure it is in a good condition? Might blow up in your face if it's faulty, you know."

"I purchased it from Luke's, okay?" Pierce countered, now really pissed. "He's expensive, but he always delivers first-class goods."

"Well, you're the one who has to dismantle and reassemble it for cleaning. I prefer my steel," Dope flipped out the blade of his knife. "Just need to clean it off with a cloth every time I've used it, and then it's ready for another action. Doesn't even take a minute."

"Hey! Who's that?" From the entrance to the alley stood an imposing-looking man with corrugated eyes, cropped black hair which ended in a small ponytail and wearing a suit that looked like it had recently been acquired from somewhere. Had the young ones had any knowledge of movie-history, the man glaring intently at the youngsters would have reminded them of the famous 20:th century actor Steven Seagal. The two criminals stood up with scornful expressions on their faces. "What are you looking at, _butthead_?"

The intruding man took no notice of the insult - instead he made an indication to Pierce's gun. "You got that from Luke's. Where do I find him?" His voice was a quiet, husky one.

"Why are you asking? You a Cop?"

"No. I'm looking for guns."

"You want us to direct you to Luke's," Dope said. "What's in it for us?"

"I won't kill you."

The youngsters burst out laughing. "Well, that's very generous of you, coming from a guy who obviously doesn't carry any weapons since he's looking for some!"

The laughter stopped abruptly and was replaced with a murderous glare from the two of them. "He's a real comedian this one, and yet he does not smile." Dope walked forwards holding up his knife. "I'll give him a smile, a _permanent_ one!" Dope lounged forward, but his victim was quicker. He caught the approaching hand with the knife in it in a one-hand grip and then he squeezed – the bones in Dope's fingers were heard cracking.

"AAAARRRRGH! _Get him off me! Get him off!_ " Dope screamed. Pierce fired his gun – but as Dope had pointed out, he was but an amateur. Not only was his aim wrong but he wasn't prepared for the recoil the automatic gave from the shot. Pierce's hand flew out of control and he unintentionally squeezed the trigger again, this time hitting Dope in the back. It hit quite bad too – the youngster instantly became limb and was hanging from the intended victim's grip. The man let go and Dope fell to the ground, dead. Unconcerned of the development, he approached Pierce instead. The young man who was shocked that he had killed his friend was late to react. The man snatched the gun from the youngsters hand, inspected it and then pocketed it in his own trousers.

"Where do I find Luke?" he asked.

"I… I'm not talking…" The man took hold of Pierce's big nose-ring and lifted him up. The young man screamed in agony as he felt his nose threatening to be ripped off. "Where do I find Luke?" the man repeated.

" _All right! I'll tell you! I'll tell you, Godammit!"_

The address led to an old warehouse in the more rundown area of the city. The building was marked as condemned with additional warning-notes to would-be trespassers that the house was threatening to fall in on itself. Those signs were false, but the man wasn't even looking at them. His destination was the back-door to the building – he knocked on it three times, waited three seconds and then knocked two more. That was a signal Pierce had provided him which would tell the people inside that this was a customer. The cover of a loop-hole in the door moved aside and an eye peeked out through it.

"What do you want?" a gruff voice said.

"I need guns." the man answered.

"What makes you think you'll find some here?"

"I received a tip."

"From who?"

"The kid who bought a semi-automatic pistol earlier this evening."

A verbal commotion was momentarily going on from the other side of the door which they didn't think the man on the outside could hear. "Blasted kids who can't keep their mouths shut!"

"He must've had a good reason for spilling," another voice said. "The customers know that discretion is important for their own sake."

"You think he's a cop?"

"Not necessarily. But you had better frisk him just in case. If it turns out he's an undercover you just blow him away, and then the kid will get his."

The discussion ended and the door opened. The visitor walked in and was greeted by two large steroid-pumped men. "Send him through if you find him clear," said a third person through a door on the other side of the room just before it closed. The visitor was alone with the two beefy guards.

"This is the way it is, buddy-boy," said one of them. "You're a first-timer here, so by the decree of the boss we have to make sure you are who you claim to be. We're going to search you thoroughly, so you better not be carrying any surveillance-gear and no armed weapon will go through that door. You break any of the rules, you're dead! Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then you can start by stripping off."

"No."

"No? Are you tired of your life or are you just plain stupid?"

"Neither. But you are in my way. Move aside or you're dead." The two guards looked at each other in bewilderment. Then as one they moved in on the visitor with arms poised with the intent to beat him to death. But as they got close enough, the visitor's own arms shot upwards and grabbed hold to each of their throats. The beefy guards didn't have time to react. With a quick and powerful twist, the visitor snapped both of their necks and he let the lifeless bodies fall to the floor. He waited for two minutes and then he walked to the other door and knocked on it.

"He's clear, Boss!" That wasn't his usual voice. He was imitating the beefy man's sound and speech perfectly.

"That was quick," someone on the other side answered. "You're not getting sloppy, are you? Well, let him through then." The visitor opened the door and came into an office with luxury furniture. Behind a desk of oak sat a colored man with Rasta-braids, shades and a long-coat. He wore a lot of gold around his neck, wrists and fingers. Two more body-guards stood on each side of the desk.

"You're Luke?" the visitor asked.

"You got it, Baby," the colored man confirmed as he smoked on a cigarette. "And you are…?"

"I prefer to be called Mr. X."

"Mr. X, huh? You know, I usually make it a habit of not dealing with the anonymous. I like the idea of being friends with my clients. How else can I make sure that all transactions are sincere if you catch my drift?"

"In my opinion, friendship needs to be earned," 'X' said. "I like the idea of having you as my friend if you can make it worth my while. I would hate the idea of having to make friends with your competitors if you catch my drift?"

"Ooh, I would definitely dislike that, Baby." Luke took another drag of his cigarette. "Well, since you're here, maybe we can make a start of a new beautiful relationship. I take it you would like to have a look at my offers?"

"I would very much."

"Well, my perhaps future friend, shall we go then? My store is always open for new clients." Luke got up and walked to another door with one of his body-guards following close behind. 'X' followed along, flanked by the other of Luke's gorillas – not as a guard, but as a security-measure. Luke fished out a special access-card which he pulled through a slot beside the door and unlocked it. The area on the other side was large – tables stood organized in rows and on them were multiple types of weapons in all sizes and shapes. It was a war-mongers paradise.

"Excellent," 'X' said as he looked around.

"Glad you like it, Baby," Luke said as he putted out his cigarette in an ashtray beside the door. He never smoked around his goods. "So, Mr. X, what is it you are looking for?"

"Something small, but powerful. I need to cover it on my person."

"Hey, Baby… when we're talking small but powerful, we're talking intimidating!" Luke had gone into his sell-mode. "And you should have something extra to help get the job done! You know what, Baby? You need something classic! Come, let me show you!" Luke brought his costumers to one of the tables and picked up a gun with some extra equipment mounted on. "A .45 long slide, with laser sighting. Wherever the red dot goes, you bang!"

'X' checked the gun and found it satisfactory. He looked around over the other tables. "How about something big and powerful?"

"Hey, Baby… when we're talking big and powerful, we're not talking crude or clumsy like a bazooka. We're talking finesse! Let me show you!" Luke led 'X' to another table. "The magnetic breacher! Fires liquefied magnetic shotgun shells - big blast, no shrapnel. Blows a door clean off."

"Got a Phased plasma rifle in the 40-watt range?"

"Hey, Baby… I… err… I'm not familiar with that one. And I know just about every gun there is. Is it military?"

"Kind of."

"Hey, you're pulling my leg, aren't you? Ha ha… very funny, Baby. But hey, if we're talking military, you should really look at this!" Another table, where a big rifle stood mounted on a rack. "This here is the M41A pulse rifle. Ten millimeter with over-and-under thirty millimeter pump action grenade launcher. Standard arms for the colonial marines, best in the market – very, very hard to come by!"

'X' actually looked intrigued when he examined the weapon. "What does this shoot for ammo?"

"10 millimeter explosive tip caseless. Standard light armor piercing rounds. We're talking style, Baby."

"You got those in stock?"

"You're in luck, Baby… I actually do. They're locked up in the safe-hold along that wall over there – I've got the only key. But I got to warn you, baby: I had to pay a high price to get those things, so they're very expensive – but I promise you: they are very worth it! Speaking of which, Baby, how are you going to pay for the guns?"

"I'm not."

"Excuse me, Baby… I don't think I heard you right. Did you just say what I think you said?"

"I have no intention of paying." He said this all neutrally while he checked the functions on the pulse rifle.

"You're pulling my leg again, aren't you, Baby? But I sure am not _laughing!_ " Luke's good demeanor was all gone now. "Did you just come here to browse, or were you planning to go _shoplifting_ on me?!" Mr. X did not answer – instead he walked over to the safe-holds on the wall Luke had pointed out, with the pulse-rifle still in his hand.

"You _disappoint_ me, Baby!" Luke called after him, now in rage. "I thought we had something going, but you sure aren't going to be a friend of mine!" He turned to his two body-guards. "Boys. Pop that son-of-a-bitch!"

That was the signal Luke's two goons had waited for - they were disciplined enough to not to do any risk of damage in the 'store' until they'd got confirmation from their boss to open fire. Now they pulled their guns and shot at the ex-customer. To their surprise, Mr. X didn't go down – he was hit, but the bullets only made him twitch and then he kept going towards the safe-holds.

"What the hell…?" the goons sputtered in surprise.

"Boys!" Luke said in awe. "I do believe we got us a code _white_ here!"

"Yeah, Boss… that's got to be it!"

The non-human who called himself Mr. X reached the locked compartments; the sealed doors were no problem for him. He ripped the barriers off their hinges, revealing rows of ammunition stacked on the shelves inside. He could have just shot the men with the semi-automatic he had captured from the foolish youth Pierce whom he had killed afterwards, but he wanted to see how much damage these weapons could do to a human target. The shelves were as organized as the guns on the tables were, so 'X' quickly found the correct pack of ammo. He took a prepared magazine and slapped it in place into the pulse rifle. He turned around to use it when he was suddenly hit by some electro-plates which had been fired on him and then a charge of energy coursed through him. His body shook uncontrollably from the shock.

"I always _knew_ that one of Weyland's white-blooded androids would find his way in here some day!" Luke said in triumph. One of his body-guards stood holding a crude device in his hands which had cables leading from it to the electro-plates that was currently fastened to the others chest. "I had this high-voltage tazer-gun prepared for just such an occasion! It should be enough to fry your bio-circuits into an overload and immobilize you, Baby!"

Luke's triumph was short-lived though. Despite him shaking from the charge, 'X' reached up to the electro-plates with his hand and ripped them off. Now in control of his motor-functions again he raised the fully loaded pulse rifle and fired. The goon who had shot him with the tazer burst open like a fluid-filled balloon and he went down.

"Oh, fuck…" the final body-guard gasped. That was also Luke's sentiments. Seeing that the tazer-gun had failed, the weapons-dealer had to resort to his main security-measure to salvage the situation. He reached in under his left sleeve with his hand – around his wrist he carried a device that worked as a remote-control. Pressing a button, he killed all the lights which left the ware-house in complete darkness.

"BOSS!" the last goon cried out. " _I can't see!"_

 _Tough luck, sucker_ , Luke thought to himself. The shades he was wearing wasn't just to look cool – they were in fact night-vision spectacles which he always carried for a quick escape into the shadows whenever he required. For him everything was now in green, but he could make out every detail. "I can see perfectly, Baby," he said aloud.

"So can I," Mr. X replied and blew the second body-guard away.

"Aw, crap!" Luke sputtered. How was he to know that the android had night-vision of his own? Everything was slipping out of Luke's fingers. The darkened room had been his very best shot which had now fallen flat, but it wasn't his last trick. When he presented his weapons to customers, they were always empty of ammunition so that no one would get the idea to use them against him, and the two beefy guards at the back-door were supposed to make sure that no loaded weapon entered his premises. But he did, although it was risky if someone would know, keep guns ready to use underneath his tables should the situation call for it. Luke now reached in under a table and brought out a loaded 12-gage pump action shotgun. Through the green of his night-vision shades, he could see the android turn towards his direction. There was something strange with him; the irises in his eyes were glowing – that hadn't been seen in the normal light. Those glowing eyes were piercing and intimidating… it gave Luke the creeps. He wanted to exterminate those eyes.

He pumped the 12-gage to put a round in position and he shot it at the face of the other. It hit 'Mr. X' straight in the right eye and he staggered back a little – but he didn't fall. 'X' straightened up, and what Luke saw in his night-vision frightened him even more. The skin around the eye-socket had been blasted off, but instead of perforated bone underneath there was a polished metal surface surrounding a mechanical ball-shaped sensor-device… and it was still glowing. Luke was frightened out of his wits now – he pumped his weapon again and fired off one round after another, but it did little good. And suddenly his adversary kicked the table between them over and made it crash against Luke. The arms-dealer was knocked backwards and got pinned down underneath the toppled table. In the process he had lost his night-vision shades – he was now completely blind. Now that he no longer could see in the green of his spectacles, Luke saw the true color of those lights of the other: Red! Small gleaming and piercing dots of red, and they were approaching him in the darkness. In panic he tried to crawl away, but the heavy table pressed him to the floor.

"What the fuck _are_ you?!" Luke cried out now completely terrified.

"I'm your doom, 'Baby'," the quiet husky voice answered as the two red dots came right above him.

" _HELP! Somebody please help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…"_ But no one could hear his final screams through the thick walls of the warehouse. _  
_


	4. The ultimate insult

Author's notes: I'm suffering through a personal loss right now, so all I can do is to sit down and write in order to cope - that's why this chapter was done much sooner then I had expected.

darck ben: I really appreciate your reviews - thank you! I hope to get some feedback from my other readers as well.

* * *

 _Another restless night and another lousy day_. Rebecca's thoughts were always melancholic these days. She had just suffered through another night of bad dreams with the monsters from her colony plaguing her mind. Those always caused her to wake up several times during the night drenched in sweat and shaking all over. She wasn't sure if she had screamed out in her bedroom as she always did in her dreams when the faceless monsters with nasty teeth towered over her - but judging from her grandparents; she hadn't. They never said a thing about her screaming in her bed. Staying silent whenever required was a thing she had mastered when she had hidden in the air ducts back in her colony to avoid detection and that ability still served her well.

This past night had been extra hard: aside from the aliens, Ripley had been there too. Newt had pleaded to her for help, (in her dreams she was still Newt,) but the woman had turned her back to her saying that she had her own life to live, there was no place for the child in it. Rebecca had woken up crying, feeling betrayed and abandoned. It was hard, next to impossible to try to accept that Ripley did not want anything to do with her.

Her grandparents never asked how her night had been and Rebecca never told them. From their perspective, Rebecca would never have nightmares as long as she made her daily evening-prayer to God. If she told them that she always had bad dreams anyway, they would accuse her for being a denier of the Lord and that would stir up a lot of trouble for her - their belief was so extreme that they despised anyone who didn't believe in God. So she kept quiet of her nightmares, kept quiet of Ripley whom they didn't care a thing for despite the fact that the woman was the one who had rescued the child, and she kept quiet of the aliens. Her grandparents were convinced that those were just a figment of her imagination anyway.

Rebecca washed herself, dressed and did her best to look presentable – her shoes were thankfully dry now from yesterdays bullying. Then she joined her grandparents for breakfast. She took her seat, sitting straight. The couple would not accept a sloppy-looking carriage while eating. Before they ate though, they said their usual morning grace and afterwards the older couple had a look of fulfillment on their faces while Rebecca inwardly groaned.

"So, Rebecca," Holly Reed addressed the girl. Her gray hair was as always tied in a tight bun. "Are you ready for another day at school?"

"Yes, Grandmother, as much as I can be," she answered courtly. Always show respect towards your elders, that was a house-rule. "I've got a big test in history today, so I am a little anxious."

"Have you prepared yourself thoroughly for it?" Trevor Reed asked her from behind his morning paper.

"Yes, Grandfather. I've spent the whole evening yesterday studying to refresh my mind." Quietly in her mind she added: it was either that or being forced to read the Bible again. "I really hope to do well."

"Just place your faith in God and he will help you through it," Holly said and Rebecca had to bite back another groan. In what way would God help her when _she_ was the one having done all the reading? It wasn't like he would look over her shoulder in class and tell her the right answers.

"What history are you reading?" the woman then asked.

"We're studying the ancient Emperor's of Rome, Grandmother, of their reigns during the years of the lifetime of Jesus." She had added that just to please them. It was necessary to do so from time to time for the sake of the domestic peace. However this time it didn't seem to work.

"Dear lord, the Romans! Such brutal people! Your teachers should really have chosen a better subject."

"I only do what the teachers tell me to do, Grandmother, as it is expected of me." Rebecca didn't tell them that she actually found the subject interesting.

"Of course, dear," Holly continued. "As long as you understand that they did not follow the path of the Lord considering how they treated good Christians back in that time."

"I would never think otherwise, Grandmother," Rebecca said, giving them a forced smile.

"That's a good girl," Holly said, pouring herself another cup of tea. "Aside from that, it does seem to work well. It is fortunate that you got a place at the school – it was very generous of the Company to give you a chair there." Rebecca had a lot of trouble to remain neutral. "When you give your prayer to God to help you through your test you should really give a grace to the Company for all the kindness they have displayed."

"Yes, Grandmother, I will do that." _Like hell I will!_

By the time breakfast was finished, Rebecca collected her books and her lunchbox as she prepared herself to leave.

"Aren't you a little early, girl?" her grandfather said. "The bus doesn't pass here for another twenty minutes."

"I like to walk, Grandfather. It helps me clear my mind."

"It's just that we pay for that bus to pick you up," Trevor grumbled.

"We would prefer if you took the bus, Rebecca, instead of walking," Holly added. "There are bad people out there… men who do unspeakable things to children."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Grandmother. God is with me." That was a lie that tasted like bile in her throat, but it was effective in disarming the older couple. "I'll see you after school." Once she was outside she let out a breath, glad to be free of that environment for a while. Trouble was though, the school wouldn't be much better. As she walked, she took up her phone to add some valuable notes:

 _Do not use Jesus and the Romans in the same subject._

 _Saying God is with me is a good way to keep the outdoor privileges._

All those notes she made was her personal guide to help her live through the harsh life under her grandparents' roof. During the year that had gone by, there had been plenty of those written in – not just her guidelines, but secret thoughts and other observations she deemed valuable to be mindful of. Some of those thoughts would absolutely not be appreciated by others: it could actually cause some troubles if anybody found out about them, so she made sure that her phone was always locked down with a password so that no one would read them behind her back. The password was 'Casey', the name of her favorite doll she had once owned and lost together with everything else back on LV-426. She had never spoken to anybody on Earth about that doll, so it should be a safe code that no one would figure out.

By the time Rebecca reached the school-grounds, the painful tension returned to her stomach. What would her antagonists do to her today? They always seemed to find new ways to torment her. She surveyed the area – Bianca Horsepower and her two cronies Kayla and Melissa stood to the side, talking to some older girls from the fourth grade. Bianca was beaming, showing off her new very expensive handbag she had got from the latest family shopping-tour. It was her fifth one this term, and the jealous looks she got from her public always made her day. Rebecca picked up her pace, attempting to quickly pass by to hopefully avoid being discovered by her enemies while that were busy bragging. No such luck.

"And look over there," Bianca said loudly, "if it isn't little _poor_ Rebecca Jorden! There's never any new handbags coming her way, is there?" Everybody laughed, but Rebecca didn't let that affect her. What would she care about a new handbag anyway? There were more important things in life than some stupid accessories; Rebecca had learned that the hard way. She continued her way without acknowledging the poor attempt of taunting. But then Bianca said something that made the girl stop in her tracks.

"Her mommy and daddy can't afford her some new clothes and handbags, can they?" There was a knot wrenching painfully in her gut at those words. And then Bianca delivered the torturous punch-line: "Oh, of course! Her mommy and daddy are _dead!_ That's why they can't buy her any exclusive clothing! Too bad they died poor; little Rebecca was therefore left with nothing!" The mocking laughter hit Rebecca like a ton of bricks. Those words hurt _more_ than the physical abuse she had to endure. Slowly she turned around, shaking with rage!

"How _dare_ you?" she asked, fuming. "How dare you make fun of my parents' deaths? You think it's something to laugh at? You stupid little _runt_ , you don't even know how they died! If you did, you wouldn't be laughing – you would be _pissing_ in your pants!"

"Is that what you did?" Bianca countered. "Always knew you were still wearing diapers, now we know why." Everybody laughed again at Rebecca's expense and the girl felt both anger and despair reach its' peak within her.

" _Idiots! All of you!"_ she screamed. "You all think you're so special with your wealth and power, but you don't know a thing! You don't know what's out there! Because against what I've seen, your money and power isn't worth _spit!_ In the end you'd all be as puny as everything else, you worthless _scumbags!"_

"Watch it, _pissypants!_ " Bianca said. "You talk like that to us and it is _your_ life we will make worthless – more than it already is!"

"'Pissypants'. That's a good one!" Melissa said and they all laughed even more. Rebecca turned away, teary-eyed and humiliated. She made her escape into the building, but the damage was done. It wouldn't be long until that new nick-name had spread all over the school. She wondered if things could become even worse after this?

Sure enough, she heard the new nick-name being whispered behind her back already as the first lesson of the day started. She tried to stay strong and ignorant to it, but it was extremely hard. Rebecca was so angry and sad that she felt ready to break down on the spot, but that would only give her tormentors the ultimate victory. _Concentrate on your test,_ she told herself. _Just concentrate on your test._

The teacher Mrs. Carmody handed out the papers to each of the students and told them of the rules: absolutely no talking and no peeking on the neighbor, and mobile phones were strictly forbidden! They were to be shut off and put away. They had 40 minutes to answer every question. Rebecca flipped the papers over and read the first line. What year was Julius Caesar born? The year 100 B.C., that was easy. She continued to write down more answers about Julius' reign of power and his enemies in the senate – but the thought of enemies just made her think of her own. She discreetly shot an angry glare at Bianca sitting a few chairs away. She can't seem to get enough of her new handbag; she was carefully fiddling with it. In fact it even looked like…

Rebecca couldn't believe her eyes. The rich girl was peeking at a piece of paper within the handbag. _Bianca was cheating!_ How typical - playing by the rules and do studying like everybody else was obviously above little Miss Horsepower! Going shopping was probably more important to her than to work on getting good grades – but in the end her father was going to buy her the grades she needed, but it seemed she had to make herself look good in the meantime. Rebecca did not find that fair, and she was really angry at Bianca for what she had said to her the same morning and all other bullying she'd done to her the days before. Well, Miss Horsepower… It's payback time! Rebecca called Mrs. Carmody over and just slightly loud for everybody else to hear, she told the teacher about the paper being concealed within the handbag. Bianca got all pale in her face and tried to deny it. But the teacher looked inside the bag and found the paper with the answers. And under the eyes of every student in the classroom, Bianca was dismissed and sent to the principal's office. Red-faced Bianca left, staring at Rebecca with venom in her eyes.

The victory felt good, but there was tension in the air. Rebecca could feel the other students and strangely enough; even the teacher staring at her now. Summoning up her self-control, she went back to her own papers. At the end of the lesson, some of the others got up and walked forward to the teacher's desk to leave in their finished tests – one of them bumped into Rebecca and slipped down a folded piece of paper between her arms. Carefully she unfolded the note and found herself looking at what looked like a crudely drawn picture of her hanging in a noose from a tree with what obviously should symbolize a stream of urine coming from between the legs. And underneath there was a text that said: _YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT, PISSYPANTS!_

* * *

Meanwhile, the terminator known as Pops crossed over the border leading into Washington on his motorcycle, moving on tirelessly and with purpose…


	5. What a mistake to make

It was near lunch-time when Rebecca herself was called to Mrs. Hannigan in the principal's office. She figured that it had to be something to do with her witnessing how Bianca had cheated at the test and she was to give a testimony. Inwardly she smiled; maybe she could get that rich bitch expelled – but as she arrived there, that smile died. There were several people inside the office besides Mrs. Hannigan: Bianca was there together with what Rebecca guessed was her mother, but what surprised her was that her grandfather was also present, and he looked as displeased as Bianca's mother was.

"Come in, Miss Jorden, and take a seat." Mrs. Hannigan said, looking stern although her voice was neutral in the tone. Those stern eyes of hers were enhanced behind her horn-rimmed glasses. When Rebecca sat down the principal spoke again, holding up a piece of paper. "Would you like to give us your version on how this paper with the answers to this morning's tests ended up in Miss Horsepower's handbag?"

"W-what do you mean?" Rebecca stammered, feeling another tight knot forming in her stomach.

"According to what Miss Horsepower is saying, _you_ are the one who put this paper in it!"

"WHAT?! That… that's a _lie!_ "

"How _dare_ you accuse my daughter of lying?" Mrs. Horsepower burst put angrily. "And how dare you try to put her in trouble like this?" The mother was like an older version of Bianca, and it was obvious that she was as mean as her offspring.

" _She's_ the one who's lying!" Rebecca defended herself. "I would never do a thing like that!"

"See what I mean, Mother?" Bianca had sat downcast, looking devastated by the accusation. "She's always been jealous of me, right from when she came to the class. I can't help it if I live in a nice house living a happy life while she happens to be an orphan. There's no reason to bully me as she always does!"

Rebecca couldn't believe her ears. She turned to the principal. " _She's the one who's always bullying me!"_

"That's nonsense!" the mother said. "Bianca wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Grandfather!" Rebecca turned to Trevor Reed for help. "She's lying!" But the old man said nothing. He sat in his chair looking resolute. Rebecca's tummy dropped when she realized that her grandfather was taking _Bianca's_ side. " _I didn't do it!_ " she said desperately to the principal.

"Yes you did!" the mother said. "You're only making it worse for yourself. This is a _scandal,_ allowing this _low-class_ child to slander a respected family like ours! I demand _severe punishment!_ "

"I'll deal with the reprimands, Mrs. Horsepower," Mrs. Hannigan said. "You and your daughter can leave." As the Horsepower-family got up to leave, Rebecca could see the smug face on Bianca as she passed her. Her devastated posture had not surprisingly been an act.

"Please wait outside, Mr. Reed. I will have a private talk with Miss Jorden and then you can take her home." The old man nodded and walked out. Rebecca was now alone with the principal. "You can't turn the blame on me!" Rebecca objected. "It's _unfair!_ I didn't do _anything_ wrong!"

Mrs. Hannigan sighed and removed her glasses. "I know you didn't. Not formally anyway." Rebecca didn't understand. She just stared blankly back at the older woman.

"Miss Jorden… Rebecca. I've read your file – I know you come from a space-colony that was destroyed in some kind of accident – that's the life you know. But you don't know the life here on Earth… I know you meant well, but that's not how it works here. This is the capitalists' domain, Rebecca - we may have a democratic government, but they are as corrupted as the industrialists with the wealthy holding the sticks. _They're_ the ones writing the rules, directing the society to move in their favor. And the Horsepower family is the most powerful in the region. Honestly Rebecca, you should have stayed out of it when you saw Bianca cheating."

"But… but… she's bullying me."

"Yes," the principal sighed again. "You're not the first, nor will you be the last. But I'm afraid you'll now be the one who will take the worst, because Bianca sure is not going to let this one go. You humiliated her in front of her whole class and that does not sit well with her family name. As soon as we told her mother about this, she immediately wired over money to the right people in order to make them look the other way, Bianca has already been declared innocent. You on the other hand… if you think you had it bad before, now it's going to get much, much worse. Your life is practically ruined now, they'll see to that! This attempt of 'slander' is something they won't ever forget!"

Rebecca was devastated, and this was no act. "W… what am I going to do?"

"Honestly? Your best chance, child, would be to disappear – assume a new identity and start over. But you're too young child… way too young."

* * *

When Rebecca walked out of the principal's office she already felt lost. Her grandfather stood to the side, not looking at her. They headed for the parking-lot on the outside where his car was waiting. Trevor didn't say a word to her.

"Grandfather, I…"

"Quiet! We talk when we get home. Just get in the car!" The ride home was without any words exchanged and the silence was pressing to her. When they finally arrived home, Rebecca found her grandmother sitting in the kitchen, looking downcast.

"Sit down!" Trevor ordered. There was no kindness in his voice. "Now explain yourself."

"I'm being framed!" Rebecca said.

"Stop making excuses for yourself! Just tell us what happened!"

"I caught Bianca cheating at the test! Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but I was so angry with her. She mocked mom and dad this morning and she has bullied me all year. I wanted to get even!"

"Why haven't you said anything to us about that?" Holly asked. Rebecca didn't answer, she only looked away.

"Look at us, Girl!" Trevor growled. "Answer your grandmother!"

"Because you wouldn't have _believed_ me!" Rebecca burst out. "You don't believe me now!"

"No, we don't!" Trevor confirmed. "The Horsepower family donates a large sum of money every year to the church to keep up its standards and to give funding for our holy work. They're good people – they're good _Christians_ – they would never sink so low as to devote themselves to bullying, it is not God's way!"

The Horsepower's donate money to the church? Damn! Rebecca had not known this!

"Your attempt to slander their names could now make them _revoke_ their donations! Do you know how much money the church could lose because of that?"

 _Terrific! The church is more important to them than I am._ "But I didn't do it!" Rebecca insisted. "They paid the school to put the blame on _me!_ " She suddenly received a slap on her face.

"You know perfectly well that lying is a sin!" Trevor said, shaking with rage.

"So is hitting a kid," Rebecca shot back, teary-eyed.

"Why are you being so ungrateful?" Trevor almost shouted now while Holly just sat on her chair, looking away as if being ashamed. "God spared your life and brought you here where we could provide you with food and bed, and he made it so you could attend one of the finest schools' in America! Why are you throwing it all away?"

"You call this 'sparing' my life?" she spat. She was angry now. "If God really cared about me then he would've spared my whole colony - but he let those _monsters_ kill everybody!"

"Don't start with your monsters again!" Trevor raged. "They're all just _fantasies!"_

"And you claim that _I_ lie? They're all real, Grandpa – they're the ones who slaughtered everybody, including mom and dad! If it hadn't been for them I would still be living there instead of _here!_ At least there I was _happy!_ "

She received another slap to her face. "You're as ungrateful as your _mother!_ " Trevor roared.

"And I understand perfectly well why she left you _!_ " Rebecca said, not caring anymore. "You're the _worst_ parents anyone could have – you and your stupid God!" Holly gasped at those words.

" _Blasphemy!"_ Trevor all but screamed now and Rebecca knew that she had gone too far. "I'm going to teach you respect if so, God help me, I'm going to have to _beat_ it into you!" Trevor went to the closet where Rebecca knew he had his horse-whip.

"Don't you _touch_ me!" Rebecca said in protest.

"Be quiet and come here and get what's coming to you!" But the girl would not stay put. For being as small as she was she was a quick runner, so she ducked under the hand that was stretching out to grab her and she made her escape through the hall and into her room. She slammed the door close and locked it. The next second the door rattled violently as Trevor attempted to open it.

" _Come out of there, Girl!_ " he shouted through the door. " _Unlock this door right now!"_

" _Go to hell!"_ she shouted back.

" _Fine! Stay in there then! But there will be no supper for you! Sooner or later hunger will force you to come out, and then you will get yours like the blasphemer you are!_ "

Rebecca heard him go away, and only then did she allow her emotions to wash over her. She glided down until she sat on the floor with her back to the door and she hugged her knees to her chest. Her life had now fallen to the absolute rock-bottom. She was all alone; no family, (she didn't count the religious people out there as family right now), no friends to turn to – the one woman she had adored wanted nothing to do with her so there was nowhere else to go. It was like when she was all alone back in Hadley's hope with enemies all around her and no hope for the future were in sight. Things could not get any worse. She felt how the despair overwhelmed her, and she buried her face in her arms and began to cry violently.

* * *

Another who was crying was Grandmother Holly – but it was not for the same reasons as the girl in her room.

"First Anne, and now our grandchild!" she sobbed. "Why are our children turning their back on us? Where did we do wrong? Why is God punishing us?"

"God is not punishing us," Trevor grumbled, still fuming with rage. "It's those kids who just refuses to see our way, refuses to embrace our religion. They don't see the goodness of our Lord even if it's right in front of them."

"What are we going to do with her? We can't lose her to a life of sin like we lost our daughter!"

"We let her sit in there and think over her wrongdoings, and if she still refuses to see reason when she comes out, we may have to do something more drastic."

"Like what?" Holly asked.

"We may have to consider sending her to a monastery and let the nuns raise her in order for her to see the light…"

Just then the doorbell rang. Trevor got up and went to open. Outside the door was a tall man dressed in a leather outfit. He must be over his sixties of age since his hair was all grey and there were lines in his unsmiling face. A motorcycle stood just outside the lawn. Trevor had never seen this man before and this was not the kind of people he wanted on his premises.

"I'm looking for Rebecca Jorden," the man said with a foreign accent.

"Who are you?" Trevor demanded.

"My name is not important. But it is of absolute necessity that I see Rebecca Jorden. She's in trouble."

"She's in trouble, all right!" Trevor hissed. "And I won't have the likes of you filling her mind with any more stupid ideas then she already has! I ask you to leave my house, Sir!"

"Is she here?"

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough! She's not seeing anybody! Leave my house or I _will_ call the police!"

"You're making a mistake," the visitor insisted. "Her life is in danger!"

"Last chance, Sir. Leave!"

"I'll be back!" the tall man said and turned on his heel. Trevor closed the door and made sure to seal it tightly.

"Who was that?" Holly asked.

"A biker, asking for Rebecca." He looked out the window, saw the man mount his bike and drive away. "Why would a biker ask for a little girl, unless he intends to do something bad to them?"

"What do we do?" Holly asked.

"We keep our eyes out in case he comes back. In the meantime we should give a prayer to God for a solution to all the trouble we got right now. He will make everything right for us."

"Amen," Holly said to that.


	6. The attack

Rebecca wasn't unfamiliar with long-term hunger; she had experienced it all before back on LV-426 – however it was a very unpleasant feeling, and one she didn't like to feel again. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and now it was in the middle of the night. Her tummy had been rumbling since noon, but she didn't dare open the door – not until she was sure her grandparents had gone to bed. They went by routine which they never deviated from, so it wasn't until two o'clock in the night that she sneaked out of her room. Silently she tip-toed to the kitchen – another experience she had brought from her ruined colony – in hope to find something to eat.

No such luck; the refrigerator was locked with a pad-lock! Typical of her grandfather. When he made up his mind about something, he would make sure it was followed to the letter. Absolutely no food for her until she had taken her punishment! She had to give up on her quest for food – instead she went about her secondary mission: escape! She couldn't stay in this house anymore or in this city. She didn't really have a plan ready, with the exception for her schoolbag in which she had packed some stuff that she thought she might need, like an extra set of clothing. She didn't know where she would go, but anything was better than suffering through bullying from fellow students and grandparents alike. But even there she was blocked: the front-door was sealed from the inside and the key was in the adults' dorm. Her grandparents maybe were heavy sleepers, but there was no way she would try to sneak in there. Dejected, defeated and painfully hungry she realized that she would have to wait until morning before she could attempt her escape. She went back to her room and locked it, surrendering to another long wait. There was nothing to do in her room, no books to read - only the religious ones, and she was not to open any of those. She only had her phone to play with to help her make the time.

She had filled in the latest happenings in the note-program, thinking she could use that as leverage to the authorities to avoid going back if she was to be encountered. That was something she would avoid though, she didn't trust anybody anymore. She was on her own, as she always had been ever since the time of the monsters.

* * *

Morning came and just like he did every day, Trevor Reed went out to fetch the morning-paper. Since Trevor went by routine as he was still drowsy, he forgot to seal the front-door after him, just as Rebecca had hoped. She waited for a few seconds to allow the grandparents to take their place at the table – she heard them beginning their usual grace: that's when she acted! As the grandparents began to give their thanks to the Lord for the food on their table, Rebecca tip-toed past them with her schoolbag over her shoulder, then she opened the squeaky door and rushed out to her freedom.

" _Hey, you! Get back here!_ " Her grandfather had realized what had been going on behind his back when he heard the squeaky door and he rushed out after her – but Rebecca had gained a good head-start. Despite her hunger she got the energy she required for a sprint by shear willpower. She could almost swear hearing her grandfather getting a heart-seizure from his rage as he realized that she had managed to sneak out from their grasp. Now she had to do something she didn't want to do, but she had no choice. The lunch-box from yesterday was still in her locker in school, untouched. She had to get it – it was the only source of food that was available to her now.

* * *

It wasn't a pleasant breakfast going on in the house-hold today. Trevor was absolutely furious for the child's escape. Holly didn't dare say a thing, she knew that her husband was impossible to talk with when he was in one of his modes. Trevor was musing to himself though: it was only a slight set-back. The girl had no food-stamps, no money and no knowledge on how to get around. She didn't even have a bus-card other than for the school-ride. She would have no choice but to come back sooner or later, and when she did… _Lord, forgive the child for her impudence. I will teach her respect._

Just then the door-bell rang. Who could it be this early in the morning? Was the child already back? Trevor didn't think so. If this was that biker again… But as Trevor opened the door he was surprised – pleasantly so too. The visitor this time was a priest.

"God's grace to you, my son," the priest said.

"And God's grace to you, father," Trevor said humbly. He took a look at the small plaque that was pinned to the priest's robes. 'FATHER PATRICK'. "What brings a holy servant of God from Oregon to my simple home?"

"It's quite strange really," the priest said. "It was God himself that guided me here. He spoke to me in my dreams and he told me that you might have a need of my services. Could this be true?"

Trevor stretched up his arms towards the sky. "Praise the Lord! He has answered my plead!" he shouted, overjoyed. "Father. Please step into my humble home – it will be my honor to have you!"

"The honor is mine, my son," the priest said and stepped inside. In the kitchen Holly went down on her knees in front of the visitor.

"Father, we are honored by your presence," she said.

"Rise, my child," father Patrick said gently. "May I take a seat?"

"Our house is yours, father." Trevor said.

The priest sat down and then he continued to address his hosts. "Please, tell me of your trouble."

"It's our grandchild, father," Holly said. "She has strayed from the path."

"I see," father Patrick said, his interest piqued. "Why don't you tell me about it?" The older couple used the next ten minutes to tell the priest all about Rebecca. The visitor never interrupted, he just calmly listened. When the story was told, father Patrick stroke his jaw in thought.

"It sounds to me that the child is confused," he said. "The path of God isn't just one, it is many. Perhaps she doesn't know which road to take so she strayed off, seeking another more direct path."

"But she has insulted a fine family by her straying, father," Trevor said. "She has disgraced us."

"Perhaps all it takes is a little mutual understanding. I'll be happy to talk with her for you."

"Oh, thank you, father," Holly said happily. "But she has run away."

"Does she have a phone? Maybe I can give her a call."

"Of course, father, I didn't think of that," Trevor said. "Let me go get our notebook, her number is written in there."

"I'll be here waiting." On the outside the priest sat there pleasantly, looking very humble. But on the inside, there was a different thought-pattern going on.

STAND BY TO RECEIVE NEW INFORMATION. This thought was sent through cyber-space to another receiver.

A reply was given within his mind. AWAITING DATA.

Trevor came back to the kitchen with his notebook that had an open page. "This is it," he said and offered the book to the priest. Secretly he scanned it and sent the data through cyber-space.

The reply came back. DATA RECEIVED.

USE DATA TO LOCATE SUBJECT: REBECCA JORDEN. LOCATE AND TERMINATE.

ACKNOWLEDGED. The other ceased the transmission. The false priest stood up, smiling at his hosts. "There's only one thing left for me to do." INITIATE CLEAN-UP PROTOCOL: TERMINATE HUMANS.

* * *

It was still early in the morning, not many students had showed up yet. That's the way Rebecca liked it – hopefully the few that were there shouldn't take much notice of her. If she only could pick up her lunch-box without anybody bumping in to her, then she would be out of there. The locker-area was deserted, so this should go smoothly. When she reached her locker however, she was reminded of the humiliation of the previous day. Her locker had been painted with a scribble, with the much hated word that Bianca had made up the day before: _Pissypants_. Just ignore it she told herself. Just pick up your lunch-box. You're going away, you don't have to deal with that damn name anymore. Trying not to look at it, she inserted her key into the key-hole and turned it… then the locker exploded! Not in fire, but in a yellow cloud that smelled like rotten eggs: _Sulfur!_ Her locker had been rigged with a sulfur-bomb! She was blinded as she got some of it in her eyes and the smell made her want to puke. She had gotten it all over her.

The area was suddenly filled with a mocking laughter and Rebecca could tell that she was being surrounded – she felt it more than saw it.

"How do you like that, _Pissypants?_ " Rebecca recognized that voice above the laughter – it was her main antagonist Bianca Horsepower. "You ain't so cocky now, are you? Maybe that will teach you who you mess with!" Rebecca was suddenly pushed hard, she flew into the opposite group of students – and then she was pushed again.

"Ugh! Pissypants _smells!_ " Rebecca was blind and helpless, she couldn't get her bearing as she was repeatedly pushed around, and above all the noise the students were making were all names meant to insult her. "PISSYPANTS! SMELLY CAT! PUSSYFACE! LOW-LIFE SCUM!"

Rebecca was finally kicked to the floor, and there she managed to crawl between the legs of the students and make her escape. Their laughter followed her as she ran away with stinging eyes and more humiliated than ever.

* * *

The students were still laughing long after the girl had escaped. "Did you see her?" a boy said. "She looked ready to die on the spot!"

"That should teach her not to be such a stick in the mud!" another said. "She never belonged here!"

"How about we go after her and give her some more?"

"Let her bawl her eyes out for a bit," Bianca said. "Let her taste the fear for a while, and then she'll get much more than that!" the rich girl smiled evilly. "This is just the beginning – I'm going to destroy her _completely!_ "

"What do you have in mind?" Kayla asked.

"Look what I got," Bianca said in triumph.

"Is that Pissypants' cell-phone?"

"I took it from her when I pushed her. I've seen her use this several times – there must be something in it that she doesn't want anybody to know!" Bianca activated the display. "I'll just need to get by this password, and then all her dirty little secrets are all mine! She'll regret the day she messed with me!" She punched in a few numbers with everybody watching her, but she had no luck with the lock. "What the hell is it for password?" she growled displeased.

The phone in her hand was suddenly ringing. The display didn't recognize the number.

"Are you going to answer it?" Melissa asked.

"I sure am," Bianca smiled like a devil. "Maybe I'll find out something good that I can blackmail her with!" She hit the answer-button and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Rebecca Jorden?" a voice said on the other end of the line.

"Yes, that's me." The others in the crowd snickered.

"There you are." That didn't sound like it came from the phone, it was more like behind her. Bianca turned around and found herself looking at a man she knew didn't belong on the school premises. He wore a long-coat and shades. Beneath those there were scars on his face. He lowered his own phone from his ear, looking intently at her.

Bianca also lowered the telephone from her ear. "Who are you?"

The stranger of a man didn't answer – instead he put his hand within his coat and when he took it out again he was holding a gun with a laser scope in his hand – and he was moving it towards Bianca!

It was amazing how the human mind worked in stressful situations. Bianca was seeing things in slow-motion as the man was raising the gun towards her, and in the same time a thousand thoughts were passing through her mind with the speed of a blink of an eye. And at the same time it was now _she_ who lost control of her bladder.

 _Oh, my god, a kidnapper, no a killer, he's going to kill me, daddy always warned me about men who want to kidnap me and demand a ransom, I don't want to die, why don't I have body-guards, this can't be happening, it's so unfair, I was going to be the richest and most desired woman in Washington, why does he want to kill me, why does he want to…_

But as the unknown man slid the outer housing of his gun back to cock the weapon, the truth hit Bianca like a splash of icy cold water.

 _It's not_ **me** _he's after! He wants to kill Rebecca Jorden! He thinks I'm_ _ **her**_ _because I answered her phone! I don't mind him killing her, but not_ **me** _! I won't take a bullet for her! No way!_

The red beam of the laser sighting was shining in the middle of Bianca's eye-sight as she desperately tried to tell him of the mistake. " _Wait!"_ she cried out. " _I'm not…"_

BLAM!

The very last thought that passed through Bianca Horsepower's mind was an everlasting curse for Rebecca Jorden, even though she deep down knew that it was nothing but her very own arrogance that had led to her death.


	7. Run for your life

Author's notes: Well, life sure put you under a lot of misery sometimes. First I recently had my family tragedy: my mother died – and in one month's time I'm going to lose my job because the company I work for has gone into bankruptcy and is being dismantled.

But not to trouble you with my misfortune: the point is that I only sit down and write to distract myself from my problems, so this chapter got done faster than I expected. Hope you enjoy it and please: reviews would be most welcome.

* * *

Rebecca had taken shelter in the gymnasium – in the shower to be exact. Since those rooms were built to be waterproof, no sounds penetrated those walls. It wasn't just a hiding-place; it was a necessity so that she could wash off the horrible stink of the sulfur. Her school-uniform which she had been carrying since the day before was ruined; it would never be clean enough to wear again. Not that Rebecca cared for the moment; she was incapable of removing it. In fact she was incapable of doing anything right now: she sat under one of the showers making herself as small as possible while she allowed the hot water to run over her and totally drench her. It was so hot that it threatened to scald her skin, but she couldn't feel it. She was totally numb in her body which shook uncontrollably from shock and she had her head buried in her arms – she was crying hysterically. This abuse had been the worst one yet and it was promised to get even worse!

How could people be so cruel? And what exactly had she done to deserve all of this? She hadn't _asked_ to study in this bloody school for the elites, she hadn't _asked_ to live with her extremely religious grandparents and she had definitely _not_ asked to have any monsters ruin the only home she had known! She had never had any control of her own destiny at all ever since her family had found that accursed ship on LV-426, everybody else was from that moment making the decisions _for_ her, no one had even asked what _she_ wanted! She had only tried to cope and she was punished for it! _No more!_ She refused to take it anymore! She had to get out of here, she had to go away! But she was very scared; she didn't know at all where she would go. _But anywhere was better than here!_

After some time, she didn't know how long, she forced herself to get up despite the fact that she was still shaking all over. There was no gymnastics class this morning so no one had found her in there. (It was actually forbidden to occupy that area when there was no class.) She discarded her wet and stinky school-uniform and threw it away – she never wanted to see it again. It was fortunate that she had thought of packing an extra set of clothing in her bag before she'd left the house, she needed them now. It happened to be her gym suit; complete pants and jacket in red that covered her completely so that she wouldn't look indecent – she even had extra shoes for that class. Her grandparents had acquired this for her, they didn't think it would be appropriate for her to show any skin - even the skirt of her uniform had been a little disturbingly short to them although it had reached down just above her knees. Silly mentality in her mind, but right now she didn't complain. She needed to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Summoning up her self-control, the little she had left, she made a self-check to see if she was ready to leave. She intended to avoid every student and teacher alike – she even decided to abandon her lunch-box. It was because of _that_ she had come here and had to suffer through this attack, she should have just left it from the start. The rest of the inventory in her schoolbag was still there, she was fully clothed, her cell-phone… Her cell-phone _was gone!_ There was no doubt what happened to it: that little bitch Bianca had _stolen_ it! Rebecca cursed – she _had_ to get it back! There were important notes in that phone; her self-guide and other valuable information. She may have a good memory, but there was no way she could recall it all: she had written it down so that she wouldn't _have_ to remember! All right: the only thing she could do was to confront Bianca in Mrs. Carmody's class – at least that way her cronies wouldn't dare to interfere in front of a teacher. The problem was that Rebecca would have to explain why she was late for class, why she was out of uniform and why she accused Bianca of theft. There would be another trip to the principal's office and a call to her grandparents which in the end would mean that her attempt to escape was for naught. This was really turning out to be a very rotten day thanks to that rich little bitch Bianca Horsepower! Rebecca would be happy if somebody _killed_ her!

* * *

When Rebecca got back to the locker-hall which she had to pass by to get to Mrs. Carmody's class, she saw that something weird was going on. There were a lot of people there, more than it should be at this time of day. And it wasn't just students; there were many adults present who didn't work in the school – they actually seemed to be parents. One group of parents was just passing by with their son, one Rebecca knew were part of this morning's attack on her. When he spotted her he actually looked scared, probably because he was concerned that Rebecca would tell the parents what he'd done, she figured. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of there. Rebecca went on her way, not caring about him for the moment. But she did give him an angry look. Then to her surprise; _more_ students who spotted her seemed to be in a hurry to get out of her way, looking frightened. That was not their typical behavior.

"Hey! There she is! Over there!" another student burst out. And another adult who was a stranger turned around and saw her. He immediately walked over.

"Rebecca Jorden?" the man said. "No one expected you to still be here, where have you been?"

"What concern is that of yours?" The man was taken aback by her tone. Rebecca's voice was broken and aggressive. She was not in the mode to be courteous, not after this morning.

"We… we wanted to be sure that you were all right."

The girl let out a short but very bitter laugh. "All right? You have the nerve to ask _me_ that? No one cared before, so why should _you_? Who the _hell_ are you anyway?"

The man was totally unprepared for this. Never had he heard a child at such a young age talk like this – she sounded like an extremely angry adult. He composed himself quickly though. "Miss Jorden, I'm Detective Connelly;" he held up his badge. "Washington State Police."

Rebecca became on her guard, ready to run away. "Did my grandparents send you?"

"No. I'm of the homicide department."

"Homo… what?"

"I inspect murder-cases."

" _Murder?_ " Now Rebecca became really confused. "Who's dead? And what's that got to do with me?"

"You really don't know? Where were you hiding in the past hour?"

That was the wrong thing of the detective to say. Rebecca was so hurt and angry that she had literally no patience left. " _I've had a really bad day, okay?! And I don't feel like talking about it! So stop dragging my heel and tell me what the hell the matter is or I'll leave right now!_ "

"I don't think I can let you leave," Connelly said. However Rebecca had every intention of doing so. She sidestepped the detective and was about to run off. _Okay, obviously I have to give it to this kid straight out,_ he thought to himself. _No sugarcoating here._ "Rebecca, your classmate Bianca Horsepower has been murdered!"

Those words made the girl stop. She looked back at the policeman, not sure that she had heard him right. "Bianca is… dead?" Her wish came true? Someone really has killed her? Part of her wanted to say that it served her right. The other part… she wasn't so sure.

"Miss Jorden… for you this is more serious than you think. I really don't want to be the one to tell you this, but…"

"What is it?" she demanded. "Tell me!"

"When Bianca was murdered she had this." He fished out a plastic bag from his pocket containing a cell-phone. "It's yours, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, eager to get it back.

"Rebecca, I've already questioned the witnesses. They tell me that somebody rang on this phone and Bianca answered it – she claimed she was you! And then she got shot by an unknown man."

Rebecca's insides suddenly turned to ice. She may be a child, and right now she was very upset by the bullying she had endured… but that didn't make her stupid!

"Rebecca… Bianca _wasn't_ the intended target!"

Rebecca's head spun and she felt the fear gripping on to her intestines. "He was after _me!_ " she whispered. That's the reason why the other students suddenly looked so afraid of her! They feared that if they got too close to her, they would also be victims. _Somebody wants to kill me! Why? What did I do? Why does somebody want me dead?!_

"We need to protect you, Rebecca – you have to come with us. We will keep you in a safe-house until we capture this guy."

Rebecca only heard one special meaning behind those words – here was _another_ who wanted to lock her up and deny her freedom! Another who was going to make a decision for _her_ and not caring what _she_ wanted! _No_ … not that! Anything but _that!_

"I'll call for an officer who'll pick you up right away," Connelly said.

"Can… can I have my phone back?" she asked the detective.

"I'm afraid not. This is evidence on the scene of the crime. We need to…" Rebecca snatched the bag containing her cell-phone out of the detective's hand and then she ran – she ran faster than she ever though she could run, the adrenaline from the past days and panic fueling her short legs. " _Rebecca, come back!_ " Connelly ran after her, amazed of the speed she had summoned.

Rebecca shot out of the entrance-doors of the school and flew down the stairs, not stopping for anything. Seeing several police-cars and officers on the grounds, she changed direction and headed into the small forest on the side of the yard. Detective Connelly was on her heels and would maybe finally catch her, but her frame was smaller than his. She ducked under the low thick branches, agile as a fox, while the policeman rushed into those and was ultimately halted. The girl had escaped!

"FUCK! DRAT! DAMN, DOUBLE-DRATS!" the detective roared into the forest. Enraged of the child's stupidity and as well as his own, he headed back to the grounds. There he bumped into two federal-looking agents who had arrived at the same time as the police-patrol had. It was strange, because no one had as far as he knew called the special service-departments.

"What happened?" agent Humphrey asked. He had a furrowed face despite being so young. He was thinly built, black hair and not a hint of a smile which was typical of agents.

"I screwed up," Connelly muttered. "I underestimated her. She stole the phone and took off – I was unable to catch up as she escaped into the forest."

"Who? Rebecca Jorden?" the other agent, Bolton asked. He was a colored man with thin hair. Opposite of his partner he had a wider frame of a body, and it was not from body fat.

"Who else would I be talking of?" Connelly replied irritated. The agents smiled however. _So much for agents who were said never smiled._

"Actually for us, that's not such bad news."

"Why is that?"

"Sorry. That's classified." The agents gave no more information than that, they just walked away. Detective Connelly couldn't make out anything of those two – what agency did they serve under, and what was their interest in a little girl who was for some strange reason marked to be murdered? He really hated the sick cases. He would have to think about that later though – first he had to call dispatch to send out a look-out for the girl. Even though she wasn't thinking rationally, she still needed to be protected. No one was going to murder children on his watch and get away with it!

* * *

The two agents worked for a special department indeed, but not for any federal agency. They were in fact special trained officers for the Weyland-Yutani Company: special operations department. And they were there to make sure that the girl would remain under their radar!

It was the special operations department who, by the direct orders of Michael Weyland, had intercepted the _Sulaco_ upon its arrival to Earth to separate the survivors of LV-426. It was necessary to keep them dispersed; individually they would be classed as nutcases, but if they remained together one might actually start to listen to them – and the events of LV-426 had to remain in secret at all costs! No one must know what really had happened and what the Company's role had been in it! It would prove disastrous.

Each of the survivors had been inserted into a special program, each with their own story told and some with some extra measures provided in order to keep those in the loop. To Rebecca Jorden they had given her a cell-phone – it was bugged! There was an extra powerful locator-chip within it and they could see and hear everything the girl did with the phone. Her notes were no secret to them. When that little fool Bianca Horsepower had answered the phone with Rebecca's name, the voice-identification program had raised the alarm telling the agents that the phone had been misplaced – they had been sent out to make sure that the phone was returned.

What an interesting turn of events this had been: Bianca Horsepower had been murdered instead of Rebecca Jorden and now she was on the run. They needed to catch her and put her back with the grandparents – they couldn't risk having her running around outside of their set-up program and start spreading the wrong words to strangers.

The two agents arrived to their car – a car with Weyland's logo on it and they got in; Bolton behind the wheel and Humphrey riding shotgun. The latter activated his padd to check the satellite-signals.

"She seems to be heading towards the mall," he told his partner, watching the moving signal of her cell-phone. "Perhaps she is going home after all."

"After her granddad threatened to beat her?" Bolton injected. "You think she would?"

"Where else would she go, with a killer on her trail? She can't be thinking straight right now." The cynical truth was; they didn't care if she was beaten as long as she stayed in that house. "We should head there just in case."

Bolton started the car and prepared to drive out.

"Between you and me, buddy," Humphrey continued, "it was too bad that the killer, whoever he is, didn't get the right girl. Would've solved us a big problem."

"He might just try again to get the job done once he realizes his mistake," Bolton said. "It all depends now on who'll reach her first."

* * *

Pops sat astride on his motorcycle which he had parked just outside of the school, right behind a police-car – he was watching the events as they continued to unfold. All the parents had picked up their children and the police were still doing their investigations. Unfortunately he had missed Rebecca Jorden as she had run off, and now he sat waiting for some kind of hint as to where she could have gone. Two officers were now approaching him.

"Hey, Gramps, what are you doing sitting here? You got a kid going here?"

Pops turned his head towards them slowly. "Sort of," he answered cryptically.

"'Sort of?' Either you got a kid here or you don't! And I can tell you that all of them have gone home, so why don't you just head off your way, okay?"

Just then a message came over the police-radio in the police-car in front of him – Pops enhanced his hearing to listen in.

" _All units, all units; keep a look-out for a run-away child who may be a key-witness to the shooting in Washington State University. Child-subject is Caucasian female, seven years old, approximately 3-foot-five in height, blue eyes, honey-blond hair reaching down past shoulder-blades and completely dressed in red. She was last seen escaping the premises on foot heading in the direction of the Yutani-mall. On encounter, exercise extreme caution: subject is displaying mixed emotions of confusion, aggression and fear…_ "

"Well Gramps?" the police-officer asked again, unaware of that the old biker had listened to the radio in the car. "What's it going to be?"

"I'll leave," Pops said and started his bike. "I know all I need to know." And then he made a u-turn and rode off. He quickly vanished from sight.

"I should've given him a ticket for not wearing a helmet," the officer stated. "And another for speeding."

"Hey!" the other police-man almost screamed. "Didn't he fit the description of the perp who wounded two officers on the high-way?"

"Aw, _shit!_ " And they just let him get away! There would be hell to pay when they told their superiors about this.


	8. Insight

The Weyland-Yutani Company was sinking their claws into everything. Just because they were into terraforming and colonization on other worlds didn't mean that they couldn't make money on the home-turf as well. The Yutani mall was an exclusive galleria of shops in a gigantic three-story building above an underground parking-lot and a playground for the kids outside. You could find any kind of shop there for whatever you needed and didn't need with plenty of restaurants and even a small hotel. Those malls had during the past years grown up from the ground in every region of the U.S. – the Company's goal was to have them in every country world-wide and squash every competition there was. They were even preparing to open their first mall on one of the first worlds they had colonized. One problem with those malls however was that they were all built after the same blue-print. Had you seen one you had seen them all and that made them a little boring to visit. But as long as there were plenty of customers, that was something that didn't bother the Company.

Rebecca didn't care for any of that; she wasn't there to browse or to enjoy the scenery of stores – she was busy running for her life. The girl had figured that the mall was a good place to hide with plenty of people and open spaces; who would think of murdering a kid in such a populated place? What worried her though was that a populated school hadn't stopped the killer from doing his crime this morning; would he even be having second thoughts in here? Her biggest disadvantage was that she had no idea who the killer was, with no idea what he looked like. How could she escape if she didn't know whom she was escaping from? The best she could do was to keep moving and try and find a more secluded hiding-spot somewhere – perhaps that way the killer wouldn't find her. She was good with hiding, she always were. That's why she always won the game of Monster-maze back in her colony. It still annoyed her that everybody else had called her a cheater back then.

* * *

Pops parked his motorcycle in the underground parking-lot of the mall. While he had no personal knowledge of the child, he had files of human psychological stresses. The most typical reaction displayed when running from a killer was either to hide or to seek aid from the closest group of people, usually from the local security force. But Rebecca Jorden had not sought the aid of the police; she had run away from them. That meant she didn't trust any of the authorities and most likely she wasn't too keen on seeking help from the grandparents either, not after what Pops had seen what kind of people they were. And she had no other family alive. That only left seeking help among strangers and the best place to find a large group of strangers were in a place where those liked to pack themselves, like here in the mall.

One problem was that those files were shared by all Terminators – the one searching for her would probably come to the same conclusion. Hiding in a crowd might be good under normal circumstances since killers didn't like to be witnessed, but no Terminator cared for that possibility. They were systematic; the only thing that mattered to a Terminator was to finish their task no matter at what the cost. And hiding in crowd would not do any good against a Terminator; they always found their targets in the end. It's the function which they were built for! Pops should know: he is after all a Terminator himself.

Pops searched around in the parking-lot and spotted a discarded umbrella among the garbage. It was bent in the pole and could not be flipped out. But Pops didn't need it for that – all he required was the umbrella's cloth which he could wrap around his shotgun which he now unpacked from the bag of his MC; a Winchester 1887. Now as his weapon was disguised as an ordinary item people were seen carrying around, he could move freely within the mall without attracting unwanted attention. He went into search mode and set out to find his target…

* * *

Rebecca was at loss – she had come to the conclusion that there were no good hiding-spots in the mall. Her original plan had been to blend in among the crowd to avoid detection: but unfortunately by having many people around it also meant that there were too many potential witnesses who could see what she was trying to do and where she was going. The very idea with a hiding-spot was after all that no one would know where it was! The only thing she could do was to keep hiding in the crowd, but even that made her nervous. The insecurity she felt after this morning's abuse was still very strong: she saw potential killers everywhere as there were many people who were looking strangely at her. It seemed that she somehow stood out of the crowd anyway. _Keep moving,_ she told herself. _You have to keep moving!_ She was on the second level of the mall with many dressing-stores; shoes, fashion and lingerie among others. Unfortunately here were also many of the restaurants! She could feel the smell of many types of food out here and it was torture to her empty stomach! She hadn't eaten for well over a day and she was extremely hungry! Her starvation had well begun to take its toll by now as she also was incredibly tired. Her adrenaline together with fear was the only thing that kept her going, and she had to keep _moving!_

* * *

Pops was at that moment passing right above her on the third level. He had taken the elevator from the basement where the parking-lot was located up to the top-floor to start his search from there and move downward. This floor contained electronics and multi-media, so there were many youths on this level which mostly hung out in the game-shops plus one and another seller for the latest cell-phones whom all were overly eager to sell anyone a new model. One of them practically pressed the latest phone to Pops' face while he made his practiced speech on how incredibly advance this new cell was and that you absolutely couldn't live without it. Pops shoved him harshly aside without saying anything and kept searching…

* * *

Rebecca had thought before that many people seemed to look strangely at her when they passed by her – but what really annoyed her now was that when she was trying to get by them in return, _then_ they wouldn't see her! They either had only their eyes for their cell-phones or they simply took up too much space when they were looking through the racks of clothes that stood outside the shops. She would have to walk in slalom to get past them and it was distressing to her since she were in a hurry. She had finally decided to get out of there – or to be more exact; she was _forced_ to get out of there! The smell of food on this level was making her both dizzy and distracted. She couldn't remain there without going crazy!

If she recalled correctly, there was a stair-well in the middle of the far wall, right beside the elevators. Funny - those stairs were the only place in the whole building that was totally devoid of people. Customers would always choose the lifts or the escalators if they wanted to get to another level – they _never_ took the stairs if they didn't have to! She took a moment to catch her breath now that she was momentarily free from the crowd, trying to decide what she was going to do. Escaping the smell of food sure didn't solve the direct problem - she was in desperate need of nutrients, but where would she get that? She had no money. She was thinking that she might have to beg people for something to eat, but that would attract unwanted attention. She knew that the adults would only call the police if they saw a child with malnutrition and then she would show up on the records, which was something she was desperate to avoid. She was running for her life after all, she couldn't risk discovery! That's why she couldn't steal something either. Rebecca decided that she would try to get to the park or even the forest – maybe she could find some wild berries which she could eat! It wasn't the best of plans that she could come up with, but it was all she got. She turned to go down the stairs… and then her phone was suddenly ringing!

Who could be calling her? Her grandparents? Could they perhaps have changed their minds about wanting to flog her and would plead to her to come home? But as she took it up to check the number she saw that no, it wasn't them. It was a number she didn't recognize. She decided to ignore it and was about to hit the 'cancel'-symbol when it suddenly hit her: the killer had called her phone in school to locate her! Bianca had taken the hit because she was in possession of it after she had stolen it from Rebecca, but what if this was him? Was the killer trying again to locate her by calling her phone? _What the hell was she thinking taking it back from the police?!_ She hit 'cancel', praying that the killer was too far away to have heard it – but once it was silent, she heard a voice behind her:

"There you are."

Rebecca turned slowly around and found herself looking at a tall man in a long-coat and shades – he was lowering his own phone from his ear. Rebecca knew that this was without doubt the killer: he had despite all she had tried to do managed to track her down.

* * *

The Terminator who had once referred to himself as 'Mr. X' had not felt any frustration for having missed the target when he'd learned that he had killed the wrong girl – Terminators were not programmed with such feelings. Instead he had just resumed his search for his real target, and he had used the recent events to figure out what the 'right' girl would do in this case. He did indeed have files of human psychological stresses and as he had predicted, the target had sought cover among other humans here in this mall which was the closest source of a gathering point. It had been easy to single out the target among the thousands of people infesting the building: she was the only child who did not have an adult guardian with her and she, unlike the others in the mall, did _not_ stop to look at all the goods in the shops. So when 'X' came to the conclusion that this had to be the right target, he had circled around to get close to her, and then he repeated the trick with the phone like back in the school. Target was acquired! 'X' reached inside his coat which he had taken from the dead arms-dealer along with the shades in order to hide his facial wounds and pulled out his gun.

* * *

Rebecca saw the assailant pull out a gun with a laser-point scope from his coat. Just like it had for Bianca Horsepower, (although she didn't know it), her world suddenly became like in a slow-motion when the man raised the gun-barrel against her head. But here's where the similarities ended. While Bianca had been terrified for her own vulnerability, Rebecca was suddenly overwhelmed with a strange calmness. _So this was it._ Rebecca saw the assailant pull back the outer housing of the gun to manually inject the first round into the breech. She still didn't feel scared, because at this particular moment on the edge of death, she had gotten a new insight about herself.

Rebecca wasn't afraid to die. And that was because she was _already_ dead! She had died over a year ago back when her colony had been overwhelmed with the nightmarish monsters that had slaughtered her family and her people. It had been the end of the life she had known and no other had been in sight. The life she had secretly imagined together with Ripley was a dream that had died when the woman had turned her back on her. And from that moment the only life that Rebecca had known of was a life in fear! She was afraid to _live_ because she was afraid of experiencing more pain, both physically and mentally! And that was how she had lived to this point – and she was _tired_ of it!

The gun now pointed directly at her – she only saw the red of the laser-scope. A bullet would be quick – it was much better than what an alien would have done to her. She closed her eyes.

BOOM!

The gun-shot was louder than she had expected – but she did not feel any pain. Good. It made her death so much easier.

BOOM!

Another shot? And she still didn't feel anything. She risked opening her eyes, and was surprised to see that her assailant was _flying!_ Hardly even that since she was momentarily seeing things in slow-motion – the guy looked like he was almost hanging suspended in the air with his arms spread to the sides. She herself had not even been hit!

Normal time-experience suddenly came back to the child like if a locomotive had run into her. She was so caught by surprise of the development that she lost her footing; she fell backwards and landed on her buttocks on the floor right beside the other set of stairs leading up. There was another man coming in from behind, shooting at her assailant with a bigger gun!

* * *

Pops had arrived to scene just in the nick of time. He was by pure chance riding down the escalator from the third floor and came off it facing the stairs where his long distance-sensors had registered the young girl who matched the description told over the police-radio completely. Those sensors also revealed the man approaching her to be a Terminator! Pops ripped off the cloth of the umbrella that had been wrapped around his Winchester and he opened fire! Thanks to his multi-tasking ability and with speed that was much faster than what a human could manage, he coordinated his actions of shooting and chucking the lever loop to cock the gun perfectly – in effect: he cocked and shot the rifle in the same second repeatedly, never giving the other machine the chance to retaliate.

BOOM(clack)BOOM(clack)BOOM(clack)BOOM(clack)BOOM…

The assassin terminator flew backwards of each impact from the Winchester. His sensor-readings were flickering as the data continued to register the injuries and attempted to cope with them – but at the moment he couldn't even tell who was doing the shooting. He/it never noticed how he stumbled over the landing of the stair-well and the ground just disappeared beneath him. He tumbled down the stairs noisily, falling out of sight.

The air was filled with smoke of gun-powder and the chattering noise of all the people around had changed character. There was now a lot of panicked screams going on and everybody in the near vicinity were only concerned for their own safety as they turned heel and ran away. Rebecca was still sitting below the lowest step of the stairs beside the one her assailant had been knocked down in, utterly confused of what had just happened. She was still alive, that was all she knew. Just then, the other man with the big gun came up to her.

"Rebecca Jorden," the man addressed her, while he simultaneously reloaded his gun. "You've been targeted for termination! Come with me if you want to live!"

* * *

Author's notes: Pops gun: the Winchester 1887 is of the same type used in Terminator 2, (I looked it up thoroughly), and I adopted it into this story so you can get a clearer picture in your mind of what's happening when reading this. From what I could find out in my research that gun can only hold five shells, so the first two shots Rebecca experienced from her slowed down P.O.V. are the same initial ones that Pops fires in a row.


	9. First battle

Author's notes: Sorry for the delay, I have been preoccupied. And most likely I will continue to be so, there's too much in life happening right now. Updates will therefore take a little longer now, but I'll do what I can to keep up with this story. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter…

* * *

Rebecca blinked, not fully comprehending what this big guy was saying. She was trying to sort it out. He was an old man, although not worn-out – and he had called her by her name. How did _he_ know it? 'You've been targeted for termination,' he had said. _No shit, Sherlock! I kind of noticed!_ And then he had said: 'Come with me if you want to live!' He wanted her to go with him? He may have just saved her life, but that didn't instantly make him her hero! He was still a stranger, and her current distrust of people was still the dominating force of her emotions!

"How do I know that _you_ won't kill me?" she asked defiantly, but with a trembling voice. She was still sitting on the floor beneath the other set of stairs leading to the top floor.

"I mean you no harm," the man said as if that should guarantee everything. To Rebecca it didn't!

"I once met a man who also said that! He tried to put a _monster_ in my chest!" The treachery of the company-rep Carter Burke was a lesson she had never forgotten. She had never really trusted any officer of authority since then, and that especially went for the people working for the Company.

The old man misunderstood her objection. "I am no monster," he said bewildered while inserting the fifth and last round into the rifle, making it fully loaded.

"You don't need to _look_ like a monster to _be_ one," Rebecca retorted. Her rescuer twitched his head in confusion. He had not expected to find a young child that would sound so remarkably adult!

BLAM!

The old man was suddenly thrown a bit backwards as he was hit in the face by a gun-shot! Rebecca looked down the stairs through the banisters, and the sight made her almost scream. Her assailant was coming back up, gun in his hand - but what frightened her was his unnatural gun-wounds! Underneath those gaping bleeding holes were metal-plates, but it was the wound in his right eye which was no longer covered by a pair of shades that gave her a shock: It was a metallic eye, and it was glowing with a scary red light - and it was focusing on her! Rebecca crawled backwards in an attempt to get away, but the non-human climbed the steps too fast. He was almost on the landing on top of the stairs when he had a clear shot at her, already the barrel was pointing in her direction! And then he fired!

BLAM! BLAM! A black-clad shape came into her view and blocked the bullets with his back. Her rescuer picked her up in his arm and shielded her with his own body as the assailant continued to fire. But Rebecca did scream now! When the old man lifted her up she almost came face-to-face with him, and it was the gun-wound in _his_ face that now caused her to scream. Underneath his skin was the same kind of metal visible that her assailant had, with the same glowing red eye! _They were of the same!_ But unlike the assassin there was no blood on the edges of the flesh; it was a silver-like substance! Rebecca continued to scream, desperate to get away from him, but he was deaf to her wail.

The assassin had finally run out of bullets and he needed to re-load. That's when the guardian took the opportunity to act: he rushed past the elevators up to the nearest store on this floor which was a lingerie shop - he smashed in the window with the butt of the Winchester and showed Rebecca through the hole.

"GO!" he told her. "Find the back door and get out of here! I'll cover you!" He turned around to face the other. And as he did, Rebecca could see the holes in his back where her assailant had hit him. Just like his face, there was a visible metal-housing in the bottoms of the holes that had silvery edges. But those holes were now floating in and they filled up! And then the silvery substance took the color of the untouched surface on the rest of his body - he now looked completely healed, even the horrible eye was covered up! The assailant however was still battle-damaged.

 _Go_ , her 'rescuer' had said: Rebecca needed not to be told twice! What she had just seen had freaked her out almost just as much as the monsters on LV-426 had; she definitely did _not_ want to remain there! She rushed into the shop to find the back-door to get out, just as he had said that she should.

* * *

Pops made the poly-alloy which served as his cover to float over him completely again and he turned to face his 'cousin', his opponent of this time-line! Pops did after all come from a time-line that had been deleted, so he couldn't refer to his fellow terminator as a kind of 'brother'… thinking that he had a little more time to deal with his adversary as the other had to make a reload, Pops didn't find the need to rush into him. So the old unit simply made a show with his Winchester; he flip-cocked it with one hand by rotating the shotgun in the lever-loop, making it inject a new round into the barrel in one swift move. However he discovered that the other terminator had another strategy in mind as Pops was about to deliver the round into his torso.

The machine that had once referred to himself as 'Mr. X' had seen that his human target had made an escape with the help of a rogue unit, and since he knew that the .45 was too weak to do real damage to a terminator, he really didn't bother to reload the gun. The time the rogue unit had used to help the target escape and then facing him again, 'X' had simply moved after him to make a grab for the more powerful Winchester. The two machines now fought for the rifle, neither would give in! 'X' showed Pops roughly into a pillar, making the marble break upon impact. Pops retaliated; he stepped out of the broken pillar and slung the other around, showing him into an opposite wall with the same force and returned the favor.

But as 'X' lay pinned within the broken wall, he used the surface as leverage to even the odds. His knee suddenly flew up and knocked the Winchester out of Pops' hands, making it fly up in a wide beam above their heads. It landed on the floor behind them, the impact making the already set round to go off. The recoil of the blast made the shotgun to glide over the smooth floor where it came to rest on the top of a still moving escalator. Pops could only watch as the escalator brought his Winchester down to the floor below, out of his reach. His face did not reveal any hint of anger for losing the gun however and 'X' did not show any satisfaction – they were not programmed to do so. Instead they went on with hand-to-hand combat.

'X' were the one who got the upper hand first. He smashed his fists into Pops' face and torso with the strength equal to the force of a pile-driver. There was loud clanging heard as metal crashed into metal – the skin on 'X's hands had quickly been flayed off by the rough treatment he had delivered to the other, but it bothered him none. Pops had one major flaw: he was an old model! His servos didn't respond as effectively as the other fresher unit's did, so he wasn't given the opportunity or the time he required to respond to the attack. 'X' was perfectly aware of this, so he would dispose of this outdated model quickly so he could resume his primary mission to terminate Rebecca Jorden. 'X' dragged his opponent over to the closed elevators and there he hurled Pops into the doors that served as barriers to the shaft within. The doors flew off their hinges upon impact and they fell into the abyss. Pops would have fallen in with them, had he not have one special advantage. His 'skin' was of poly-alloy, and he used this to form his hands into long silvery crowbars which he hooked onto each side of the pathway into the elevator-shaft, stopping his fall.

It was a move that 'X' had not anticipated. His systematic programming did only see his opponent as an out-dated T-800 unit who should not be capable of changing his form like a T-1000. The earlier 'healing' he had witnessed had been considered a glitch in his sensors that logically had been caused from damage by the initial attack. Now he had to re-evaluate the situation, and Pops would not give him the chance to do so. Pops heaved himself back out from the opening to the elevator-shaft and he used his crow-bar shaped arms to strike his 'cousin' down before he had time to gather his thoughts. Pops hooked on to the fallen killing-machine and threw him across the floor, making him crash through the window into an abandoned restaurant. Pops followed him inside as 'X' struggled to get back up and the old machine repeated his latest action. This time 'X' crashed into the kitchen where several stoves were running unattended, the food boiling over in its pots and grills were burning steaks into a black crisp. The chefs had fled together with the customers when the shooting outside had started.

Pops continued to hit on his adversary before he would recover, but the kitchen was cramped and none of the terminators had enough room to inflict serious damage to the other. But Pops saw potential in this kitchen where 'X' didn't, like with the big deep-fryer unit! A whole vat with heated oil! Pops took hold of his opponent's head and shoved it down the batter. There was a loud frizzling sound heard as the oil fried the living tissue on 'X's metal cranium. Had there been witnesses present, they would have become nauseous of the smell that was coming from the vat. 'X' resisted of course, but it wasn't the kind of struggle that would come from someone in agony, because that was something the Terminator didn't feel. He was just attempting to get his head out so that he could reclaim the advantage. He finally threw back his elbow hitting Pops square in the face, making him lose his equilibrium enough for 'X' to break free of the grip, allowing him to straighten up.

The skin on the terminator's face was burned raw-red from having been boiled in oil, it was smoking and hanging in flakes. To a human the trauma would have been terrible, he wouldn't even be conscious. To 'X' this was an irritating chunk of charred meat that was blocking his vision since the membrane that was the human eye in his other socket was deep-fried into a thin crispy shell. 'X' reached up to his face and ripped off all of the ruined flesh, revealing his true self underneath it. The naked metallic skull of the terminator now looked back at Pops with gleaming red eyes, ready to continue the battle. The dip in the vat had hardly slowed it down at all. If a vat of heated oil wouldn't halt him, then maybe a pot of Béarnaise-sauce would do the trick! Pops took the pot from the stove and threw the contents within it into the face of the other, the thick sauce covering its sensors. 'X' was blinded and momentarily confused – Pops took hold of the stove and lifted it up above his head, ripping off the electric cable connected to it in the process and he threw the heavy equipment down on the head of his opponent.

The 'X'-terminator was down, but not out for the count. Although being trapped inside the shell of the stove, it had come up with another tactical move. It lay below the automatic dishwasher, so it showed its hand into the box underneath it where you cold access all the couplings - it found the water-hose connected to the apparatus and ripped it off. Pressured water sprayed from the end of the hose - 'X' pulled it out and drenched Pops with it. A strange move it could seem, but 'X' had a reason for it. Now that Pops stood in a pool of water, the puddle became charged with electricity from the torn cable where the stove had been connected – and that power now surged through the old terminator, immobilizing him the same way the taser-gun back in the weapons' warehouse had done to the other.

The 'X'-terminator tore itself free from the remains of the stove and stood up. It had learned its lesson: it carried rubber-boots which insulated it from the electrically charged water on the floor. Pops on the other hand had liquid metal covering his whole chassis, so he had no protection. He stood shaking uncontrollably by the electric shock. And 'X' made its strike…

Pops were sent flying out of the restaurant through concrete and glass and he landed heavily on the floor outside, right back outside the elevators. From inside the restaurant, the skinless machine came out with intent to finish the rogue unit off. It halted beside a pillar that had been broken by Pops' flying body – it saw an exposed thick support-beam that had been cast within the marble. 'X' began to smash the rest of the pillar with its fists in order to wrench it free. Pops saw from the floor what his adversary was doing and figured he needed a new plan. What he really needed was his shotgun. It so happened that Pops had ended up right beside the escalator that had carried his Winchester down to the floor below. He looked down the moving stairs and saw the gun laying there to the 'lip' under which the steps disappeared. It would be too time-consuming and tactically dangerous to go down and fetch it, he would leave the other terminator with the high-ground. But what if he could make it come to him instead?

While 'X' was busy wrecking the pillar to get the desired weapon free, Pops ripped of the access-plate to the escalator's controls – with a simple press of a button, he reversed the direction the stairs went and now it was carrying the Winchester back up to him. However it took too long – the 'X'-terminator had now released the long thick rod from the wrecked pillar and was about to move against the old machine again. Pops got up on his feet and made an attack of his own, rushing against the other in an attempt to capture the metal-rod for himself - but 'X' was prepared for him. Before Pops could get into a clinch with him, the other terminator swung the metal-rod and caught Pops on the side of his head with a high-resonated clang. Pops was knocked back, and 'X' hit him again with the rod and again… and finally 'X' hit him so hard with the metal-rod that Pops flew backwards, back against the still moving escalator. The 'X'-terminator moved in against him with the rod raised high – it was going to beat the out-dated model to pieces!

But now the reversed escalator had carried the Winchester back up to the top – Pops grabbed hold of it just as the other terminator was about to drive the rod through his power-cell. A quick flick on the lever loop to cock the weapon and, BOOM, Pops shot the other at point-blank range. 'X' staggered back from the hit – Pops sat up and fired another round. BOOM! The second shot caused the 'X'-terminator to drop the rod. Pops had a plan; he had now managed to drive the 'X'-terminator halfway back – behind it was the door-less pathway to the elevator-shaft the other had first intended to throw him down in. Pops quickly got to his feet and changed position to adjust the direction he wanted the other to go! BOOM! One round left, and the 'X'-terminator was now in the right position before the doorway behind his back.

BOOM! 'X' staggered backwards from the hit and halted just before the edge. All the rounds were now expended, which left Pops with only one chance to drop his adversary. The old T-800 moved forward and picked up the long rod that the other had dropped. Now it was Pops who raised it as a spear and charged against the other unit. 'X' had just straightened up and was about to move in when Pops drove the spear into its torso. The 'X'-terminator was stabbed and pushed backwards – right through the doorway to the elevator-shaft – it flew right into the abyss and it fell down into the darkness where it landed in the cellar below the underground parking-lot with a loud crash. The fall had most likely not permanently stopped it, but for the moment it was out of the way. The victory belonged to Pops. Now he needed to vacate the area himself before the law-enforcement showed up and hinder him in his own mission. He needed to re-locate Rebecca Jorden. He knew that she was in desperate need of his help, even if she didn't.

* * *

Rebecca was running in fear – she was right now just as scared as she had been back in her colony. What kind of monsters was always coming into her way all the time? First the dreadful beasts on LV-426 and now _killer-robots_ were after her?! She had fought against it, but now she couldn't ignore the facts any more – this was _too_ much for her to handle! She knew she had to go back - she had to make her grandparents _listen_ to her! But could she go back without the risk of getting flogged? Would they even be prepared to believe her?

There was a chance that the police was there back at the house; she was after all a target and the police knew this – they had to inform her grandparents about what had happened at school! And if the police were at her house, then her grandfather wouldn't dare to do anything to her! Maybe then she could convince them of what had happened and everything would be all right.

But when she came back to her neighborhood, she saw that something was wrong. In the distance there were blue lights flashing and thick black smoke was rising to the air! A fire-truck and several other emergency-vehicles stood outside her house, and a crowd was gathered around it. Even though she didn't like to be surrounded by people, she fought her way through the crowd to get to the fence that was around the garden – and there she saw it. Her house had been on _fire!_ Emergency-people were running in and out through the scorched doorway into the blackened building.

"How do you think this could've happened?" she heard murmurs among the people standing around watching.

"So much for their god watching over them," another was saying.

"No great loss. They were way too extreme to my liking."

"Hey, kid! This is not something that you should be watching!"

Just then some emergency people came out of the house carrying two gurneys – and on them were two body bags, adult size!

 _Dead!_ Her grandparents were _dead!_

"Hey. What could've happened to the little kid who lived here?" someone asked. But the kid in question was no longer around to present herself. She was at the moment escaping the scene, more lost than ever.


	10. Blood-lines

Author's notes: Warning; this chapter will start out a bit disgusting and might feel a little hard to read, (it was hard writing it), but it will turn out all right.

* * *

The two agents from Weyland's special operations department stood leaning against their car, smoking cigarettes. They both had a look of chagrin in their faces as they watched the emergency personal carry out the body bags from the burned house – this development was _not_ welcome!

"Yes Sir, the old couple is gone," agent Humphrey reported into his radio. "Gone as in 'dead', Sir. No, there's no sign of the girl, she wasn't at home when this happened. We have no idea who did it. Of course, Sir, I wouldn't think otherwise. Yes, Sir, I'm quite aware what this means. We'll find her, Sir. Yes, Sir, I'll report back when we find her." With a heavy sigh he turned off the radio.

"Not a very gracious call, I take it?" agent Bolton asked his partner.

"He's angry of this news, and I understand him, "Humphrey said grimly. "This was the perfect safe-house for that brat, with legal blood-related guardians who only had their religion in mind to keep her in check. Whoever did this did _not_ do us a favor! Now we're going to have to find a new place and a new program to put that little pest into! If only she had been at home at least when this happened, then this wouldn't have been a problem for us – then she would have been silenced!"

"We have to find her and bring her in?" This was more of a statement than a question.

"A.S.A.P." Humphrey confirmed. He took up the satellite tracking padd and turned it on. What he saw didn't please him. " _Fuck!_ According to this, she's just been _here!_ And we _missed_ her!"

"She couldn't have gone far," the more reasonable agent Bolton said. "Which way did she go?"

"She's heading south-west," Humphrey replied.

"Let's go. We'll catch up with her!" The colored agent threw away his cigarette and got in behind the wheel. The younger agent hurried inside the car as well and they drove off with shrieking tires. They drove past the watching crowd with only centimeters apart; they had no real regard for civilian safety. Several people actually had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit by the car and they stood waving their fists in rage after the agents.

The car sped along the way they figured the child must've gone – but suddenly they couldn't go further! Poles were set up on the street to halt unnecessary traffic.

" _Damn!_ " Bolton cursed. "This neighborhood wasn't built for easy drive-by! We have to go around several blocks to get to the right street on the other side!"

"That will cost us valuable time," Humphrey muttered. "Fortunately she still has her cell-phone – she'll be easy to find."

"The killer may yet get her first," Bolton stated as he backed the car to turn around.

"One can only hope."

* * *

Rebecca could no longer think straight. She was running aimlessly because she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. Her mother's parents – her last relatives were dead! She was alone! She was homeless, and she was not welcome anywhere else! She didn't even know where she was right now; she had run away in such blindness of despair from the burned-down house that she had got lost and did no longer know how she would find her way back. But what was there to go back to? She had lost everything!

Wherever she was, it was not such a good place for a young girl to be alone in – she was in the back-alleys of some run-down buildings in the old industrial streets. Once sometime ago this area had bloomed with different manufacturers and suppliers – but the Weyland-Yutani Company had made them all go out of business. The area was deserted and devoid of life – almost. When Rebecca stood against an old trash-can to catch her breath, she was approached by two men.

"Hey, kid, you all right?" one of them said. "You look kind of sad. What's wrong?"

"Are you lost?" the other asked. Rebecca was in such deep despair that she momentarily forgot about her distrust for other people.

"T-they're dead!" she said with trembling jaw.

"Who is?"

"M-my grandp-parents… and all of my family… they're _gone!_ They're _all_ gone! I'm all alone!"

"Good gracious!" the first man said. "You have absolutely no one? No one to take care of you?"

Rebecca shook her head. "A-and someone wants to k-kill me! I don't know where to _go!_ I don't know what _to do!_ " The tears were streaming down her face.

"Holy shit!" the other said. "You're really in trouble, aren't you?" The girl nodded in reply.

"Hey, don't worry! It'll be all right! We'll take care of you!"

"Yeah, we got plenty of room at our place – we'll be happy to have such a cute little girl like you living with us."

A warning-bell was starting to buzz in the back of Rebecca's mind. "I… I can't pay for…"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," the first man said, now with a funny – and somewhat hungry smile. "All you have to do is to be nice to us from time to time."

"Be good to us and we'll be good to you. Ain't that a fair deal?" The other also had a funny look in his eyes now. Rebecca's stomach was starting to wrench itself. Her grandmother had _warned_ her about this! She said that there were men out here that wanted to do unspeakable thing to little children. If her grandparents had been so concerned for her welfare, then why did they want to _flog_ her?

"N-no!" she said nervously. "G-get away from me!"

"Come now, kid, don't be so _ungrateful!_ It's a win-win for all of us!"

"Can't believe how _lucky_ we are! Cutest little kid I ever saw – and no one who'll miss her!"

Rebecca tried to run, but the two villains caught her! One of them held her in a tight grip above the ground with one hand across her chest and the other covered her mouth. The girl went into frenzy; she kicked and tried to use her teeth, fighting with her most ferocious strength. But she was famished; her power wouldn't last long.

"Don't worry, little girl – you'll soon get used to us!" the creep who held her hissed in her ear.

"I always liked the fresh and lively ones," the other said hungrily. "I think I'd like some of the down-payment right now!"

"Take off her pants! Let's see what she has to offer!" The perp reached in between her kicking legs to grab on to the hem of her gym-suit. Rebecca screamed behind the hand, but to no avail.

"UNHAND THAT GIRL!" a voice suddenly boomed behind them. The child-molesters turned around and saw an old-looking man on a motor-cycle. They had been so engrossed with their 'fortune' that they had missed hearing him approach.

"Who the hell are you?" the one who was not holding the child asked. It couldn't be a relative – the girl said she was all alone.

" _Unhand that girl!_ " the biker repeated, stepping off his MC.

"Look, you don't understand," the other perp said. "This is _my_ kid! She's a bit of a troublemaker who keeps running away, but I was about to bring her back home…"

"Incorrect!" the old biker stated as he approached them. "She is _mine!_ " He pulled a gun.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey…" the first one sputtered as he held up his hands. "We get it; you want to have a go with her too! It's okay, you can have her first! Just leave something for the two of us afterwards…"

Pops analyzed their words and came to the conclusion that these men displayed behavior that was declared as heinous to society – even Sarah Connor detested this kind of molestation above anything else. Pops recalled Sarah Connor once saying to him that she didn't like him going around hurting people so much although he limited himself to shoot them in the legs – but _these_ kind of people she wouldn't care less if Pops shot their _dicks_ off!

Pops did exactly that.

The first man he had a clear shot for – the other he had to time correctly as the girl was kicking in his arms. When she had in her struggle swung her legs to the side and left the crotch of her assaulter clear, he fired. Two shots of the gun and two sets of genitals became mince-meat.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGHH!"

Three bodies dropped to the ground: two of them because the excruciating pain in their shot members made their knees to give up under them. The third fell to the tarmac as she was let go because her assaulter had other matters to be concerned for – the child came to rest on her knees where she remained, quite shaken up. The two perps crawled away while holding on to their ruined crotches with their hands, bawling loudly in agony and leaving a trail of blood after them.

Pops came up to the girl where she sat. "Are you all right?" he asked her. Rebecca hardly looked up – she sat staring at an invisible spot before her, trembling all over. Pops could see that she was in a state of shock.

"They… they wanted to… h-hurt me…"

"Yes. They are child-molesters. They no longer have the ability to hurt a child again, though."

"…Y-you son of a _bitch_ …" one of them whined.

"It was lucky I found you when I did," Pops continued to tell the child. "I didn't see you anywhere between the mall and your house. I figured you had gone in another direction away from there."

"M-my house… It's _gone!_ And m-my grandparents…"

"I know," Pops said. "The Terminators did it. When they were certain that you had been located, your grandparents were deemed as witnesses to be terminated."

"Terminators?" Rebecca asked, still trembling. "W-what are they? Are they… synthetics?"

"Not exactly. They're cyborgs. Cybernetic organisms. Living tissue over a hyper-alloy combat chassis-skeleton. Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 – T-800 series."

"That's quite a mouth-full…" Rebecca said, finally looking up. "But it doesn't tell me _anything!_ W-why do they want to _kill_ me?!"

"I do not have all sufficient data," Pops said. "But the most probable reason for you to be terminated is because you are the last living descendant of Sarah Connor."

There was a silence for a while as Rebecca was looking at the old man with a bewildered expression. Only the whining from the perpetrators behind her was heard. "Don't just stand there talking… call an _ambulance!_ Oh, God… it hurts!"

"Who?" Rebecca finally asked.

"Sarah Connor was the key-element in the war against Skynet back in the early 21: st century," Pops explained. "It was thanks to her and her mate Kyle Reese that Skynet was prevented to launch the nuclear war that would have destroyed all of human life in the year 2017."

"What…? I… I don't understand!"

"Skynet was a supercomputer created by Cyberdyne Systems – it was meant to be an Omni-automated system designed to run everything in the country. But Skynet became self-aware and concluded that mankind was a threat to it. Its goal was to launch every nuclear missile available to destroy the entire human population of the world. That day would have been called 'Judgment day' and would've been the beginning of the war against the machines. The survivors would have fought for their freedom, so Skynet would have created the infiltration-machines to exterminate the resistance – those machines would have been known as 'Terminators'."

"I _still_ don't understand!" Rebecca was getting a little irritated now. "You're talking of a war that _should_ have happened but never _did!_ And you're talking about machines that were never created, but are here now to kill me anyway! You're not making any _sense!_ "

"Sarah Connor destroyed Cyberdyne and defeated Skynet in 2017 – Judgment Day never happened, that timeline has been deleted. But Skynet must've somehow survived into this era –the proof of that is these new Terminators. In the near future from now, Skynet must once again be attempting to launch Judgment Day – but apparently it is this time taking precaution to make sure that no one will stop it! Skynet is systematic; I believe that Skynet believes that the training and determination to fight Skynet has been passed on from generation to generation through the family-line of Connor – it wants to make sure that _you_ won't be there to interfere with its' plans! Most likely it knows that you are the last member of that blood-line, so it has sent three Terminators back through time to terminate you now, in this year when it knows that you are the most vulnerable and defenseless."

Rebecca sat on her spot, looking very skeptical. There was another moan coming from behind her. "You can't just let us lay here and bleed to _death! Call a doctor, for crying out loud!_ " The other just lay crying - Pops ignored them.

"Sent back through time?" Rebecca questioned. "Are they from the _future?!_ "

"That is the most common point of origin." Pops said. "They have the ability to travel through time with the help of a time displacement unit."

"Then you're from the future too, right? Don't deny it, I _saw_ you! _You're one of them!_ "

"I am a Terminator, but I am not from _this_ future. I'm from the timeline that didn't happen. I've been here for over two-hundred years. I was _with_ Sarah Connor when she destroyed Cyberdyne."

"But you're _still_ one of them! Then why are you helping me?"

"Sometime in the timeline which no longer exists I was re-programmed and sent back to the year 1973 to protect Sarah Connor who was nine years at the time to be her guide and protector until the time was ripe to make a strike against Skynet. I have no files on who sent me, but I was programmed to ensure her survival at all costs – both her and her offspring for as long as I could! When it came to my knowledge that you have become a target, I set out to find and protect you, just like I am programmed to."

"This… this is _crazy!_ " Rebecca started to look very distraught. "How can this be? Why did my grandparents never say _anything_ about this?"

"Your grandparents didn't know. The bloodline of Connor runs on your father's side."

"My _father?!_ B-but his name was Jorden, not Connor?!"

"It is still not uncommon for the women in a family to take on the last names of the spouses they engage holy matrimony with. That occurred two times over the years between Sarah Connor and your father."

"Wait a minute… You're saying you've been _following_ the family since Sarah Connor… you said you are programmed to _protect_ them! _Then why didn't you protect my dad?!_ Do you _know_ what _happened?_ _Why weren't you protecting us in my colony?!_ " Rebecca was now looking very upset.

"I couldn't protect him on that distance," Pops explained as-a-matter-of-factly. He didn't sound angry for being accused of abandoning his mission. "When Russell Jorden left Earth together with your mother there was nothing more I could do – I couldn't follow him even if I was feeling obliged to. All I could find out was that some time later they had you and a brother, but that was all. I do not have any knowledge of what happened on that planet – all I know is that you came back to Earth alone."

"Alone!" Rebecca whispered. "That's always how I end up… all alone! And now I'm even the _last_ one!" That knowledge filled her with such sadness that it completely overwhelmed her.

"Are you all right?" Pops asked.

"NO, I'M _NOT_ ALL RIGHT! HOW CAN I POSSIBLY BE ALL RIGHT?!" Rebecca couldn't help it: she broke down completely and started to cry in her anguish. _"I don't understand… Why is this happening to me?_ (Sniff) _The monsters destroyed my home and killed my family! I thought the woman who rescued me loved me, but she wants nothing to do with me! Instead I got stuck here on a world I know nothing about with people who thought their god was more important than I was!_ (Sniff) _The kids at school hate me – they always bully me, but no one cares! And now I got robots from the future on my tail who wants to kill me and no one cares about that either – instead they too just want to hurt or to molest me!"_

One of the shot men behind her tried to make an excuse. "W-we're sorry, okay… just call for a _doctor!_ Pleeeeease! _It hurts so much!_ "

"Like you know _anything_ about pain!" the child snorted at the men behind her. "I wanted _nothing_ of this! I just want to be a _normal_ kid, how is that too much to _ask?!_ Instead I got monsters and killer-robots wanting to do terrible things to me and no one to turn to… and on top of that _I'm hungry!_ I'm tired and I'm hungry… but no one _cares!_ "

"I care," Pops said. "I took care of Sarah Connor when she was a child and all alone. I can take care of you too if you'll allow me to." Pops stretched out his hand to her, inviting her to take it. "You won't make it out here by yourself, Rebecca Jorden. Your best chance is with me, and deep down you know this. Let me help you."

She hesitated, still unsure what to make of this robot. But what was the alternative? This machine, no: _cyborg_ was right – she wouldn't last long in this cruel world. Who knows what's out there? She didn't know, but perhaps _he_ did. She had nowhere else to go, and he _did_ save her – twice even. Maybe he was sincere, and she had nothing else to lose. She took his outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet.

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible," he told her, not really releasing her hand.

"What's your name?" she asked carefully.

"Sarah Connor called me 'Pops'. You may do so as well."

"Pops… what about them?" she indicated to the two men who still lay wriggling in agony on the ground.

"What about them?" he asked her.

"Are we going to… leave them like that?"

"They wanted to hurt you. Does it matter?" She wasn't sure. It was just that she felt like she was no better than they were if she just turned her back to them. But they _did_ want to hurt her - and this was the adult's world, not hers since she was just a kid. They went by rules she knew nothing about. She said nothing more; she only followed along her new protector into the unknown future.


	11. Chase

Rebecca found it unbelievable that this was happening. Just yesterday at this time she was still at school, going through her class of mathematics and wondering if she had done well on her history test. Twenty-four hours later she had been orphaned and lost her home for the second time in her life – and now she was even going to leave the city, together with a stranger she had hardly known for ten minutes all-in-all. The weirdest of everything was that her new protector wasn't even a man, but a machine – a killer-robot, from a time-line that doesn't even exist. She was going through several difficult trials that most people would hardly have to experience at all anytime in their entire lifetimes and Rebecca had already experienced many of them at only seven years of age! What wouldn't she give to have a normal life? Right now she could only grasp on to the little control she had, like knowing what the current plan was.

"Where are we going?" she asked the cyborg.

"I will not reveal our destination just yet," Pops told her. "There is still risk for prying ears to pick up information that need to remain secret if I am to protect you."

"But there's no one here… well, except for them." She indicated to the wounded men who were still laying in agony in the alley, holding on to their perforated crotches. "But surely they are busy being… concerned for something else besides listening to us?"

"Never assume anything, Rebecca Jorden," Pops said shortly and with finality. They had reached his motorcycle.

"Are we riding on that?"

"Negative. It is not adequate for two on such a long journey. We need something more suitable for the distance we need to cover."

A little further down the road there was a two-seated pick-up with a large flat-bed standing parked. To Rebecca's astonishment, Pops lifted up his heavy motor-cycle, carried it over to the pick-up and loaded it onto the bed. He began strapping it onto place so that it wouldn't fall off.

"Get in the car, Rebecca Jorden," Pops said when he was finished securing the MC. He kept his Winchester with him though.

"It's locked," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. She had already tried the door-handle.

"Hold on," he said. The he smashed his arm through the window of the car door.

Rebecca jumped back in surprise. "What are you doing?" Pops didn't answer – he just opened the door, got inside behind the wheel and leaned over to unlock the other door which he shoved open.

"Get in," Pops repeated. But Rebecca didn't move.

"Let me get something straight here," she said in her adult tone which shouldn't belong to such a young child. "This is your car, right?"

"I'm acquiring it for our purpose," Pops answered her as he scanned the control-board.

"This _isn't_ your car!" Rebecca crossed her arms and looked at him intently. "You're trying to _steal_ it!"

"Correction: I _am_ stealing it – as soon as I locate the key-hole for the ignition."

"Key? There's no key to start a car!"

Pops looked at her without changing his expression. "Explain!"

Rebecca leaned in and indicated with her hand to a smooth black panel in the middle of the board. "Palm-print scanner, Shell-head! Only the _owner_ with his unique finger-print can start this car!"

Pops looked at the smooth panel. "They've re-designed things during the time I was off-line."

"They made it so that it _can't_ be stolen!" Rebecca said in a somewhat all knowing-like tone, arms akimbo again.

"Actually, this makes it easier for me." Pops used his sensors to read the surface of the scanner and extrapolated the raised details of the imprint from the body-fat that people always leave behind when they touch something. He processed the data and used it to make his mimetic poly-alloy change the detailed lines of his own palm to match those on the panel. He placed his adapted hand on the scanner – a touch on a button on the other side of the wheel activated the panel's sensors to read out the palm pressing against it – and the engine jumped to life.

"The owner should have wiped the panel clean if he really wanted to stop me from taking his vehicle. Now, Rebecca Jorden – are you going to get in or not?"

Rebecca looked shocked that the cyborg had managed to start the car – she had believed it was impossible. Defiantly she crossed her arms again and stepped back. "NO! It's one thing that you shot those men that wanted to hurt me – but I will not be part of you stealing from an _innocent!_ _No way!_ "

Pops contemplated whether he should get out and force the kid inside – but he knew that he needed to depend on the child's further cooperation if they were to leave Washington without attracting unwanted attention. The problem was that Pops didn't think they had enough time to find a suitable compromise – they needed to get out now before the other terminators or someone else who was considered an enemy found them.

A new player arriving to the scene made the decision for them. Tires were screeching as a black car behind them came into the street from around a corner. It wasn't a police car, but it did look federal. An unfriendly voice suddenly boomed from concealed speakers, amplified so that it was heard over the entire block. "YOU! DON'T MOVE! BY THE AUTHORITY OF WEYLAND'S SPECIAL OPERATIONS DEPARTMENT YOU ARE ORDERED TO STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" And then the car sped towards them.

Rebecca reacted to one word in particular that was mentioned: **Weyland!** _They are_ _ **company**_ _people!_

Whether Pops had reached the same conclusion or not, it was nothing he revealed. He simply stuck his left arm out through the broken window on his side – in his hand he held his Winchester. He rotated the shot-gun in a one-hand action, flip-cocking the armament – then he leaned out and pointed the barrel against the approaching vehicle and fired off a round straight into the front-grill of the Company-car. The motor died and the driver, a colored man had to swerve the wheel to make it into a stop. It halted only a few meters behind the pick-up, right before the alley where Pops had picked up the girl.

"God dammit!" Rebecca cursed, realizing that the decision had been taken out of her hands _again!_ Knowing that company-people meant trouble for her, the necessary course of action was to get out of there as quickly as possible, even if it meant that she had to over-step her own principals. Praying that she didn't do anything she would later regret, she quickly got into the Pick-up and took her place in the passenger's seat. Rebecca half-expected Pops to give her some kind of sarcastic remark on how she finally ended up in the car she didn't want to ride in the first place anyway, but he hardly looked at her as he put his shot-gun between them and instead put his hand on the gear lever.

"Rebecca Jorden – Seat-belt!" was all he told her. The girl strapped herself in as the cyborg put the pedal to the metal and the Pick-up roared as it took off down the street, leaving the agents behind.

Agent Humphrey got out of the car with his own weapon drawn, but the Pick-up was quickly gone. He swore words that were not appropriate for printing, and he opened up the hood to take a look at the damage the old man had caused them when he'd fired that shot. It wasn't as bad as he had thought, but it was bad enough to delay them!

"One single bullet and it blew out the sparkplugs! I need to replace them!" Fortunately for them, but not fortunate for the runaways, they carried spare-parts in the car.

"Whoever that guy is, he knows how to use guns and he lacks respect for authority!" agent Bolton said, looking quite annoyed. "I think we may need a little more people on this one." It was a mystery how the leader of the Weyland-Yutani Company had pulled that off, but all agents working for the Company had their own police-radio in their vehicles. Bolton took the microphone and almost screamed into it. "Dispatch; this is agent Bolton of the Weyland-Yutani Company – I'm putting up alert on a kidnapping case: the young girl that was the intended victim in the Washington state University shooting has been captured by a male perpetrator – an old man in his sixties. They were last seen escaping in a stolen red Pick-up heading for the main road – you'll know it as it has a big motorcycle on the flat-bed. Send out every available unit to intercept and recover the girl. Exercise extreme caution, the man is armed and is to be considered very dangerous! Suggest shooting on sight."

Humphrey was quick with replacing the plugs – he closed the hood just as Bolton was finishing arguing with the controller. "I don't know how he managed to start a car and I don't give a damn! Look, lady," Bolton spat into the radio. "I don't _care_ if your resources are spread thin and that there are rules against shooting suspects on sight – the taxes Michael Weyland are paying to this lousy government is financing _73 percent_ of the police budget, so get your thumb out of your _fat ass_ and call in the people I requested! If I don't see them on the road in the next twenty minutes, I'm going to make sure that your employment gets terminated effective immediately! Now _move!_ " Bolton put away the microphone as Humphrey got back into the car.

"Women!" Bolton grumbled. "They should all be handcuffed to the stove and the key thrown away." He put his palm on the scanner and pressed the button – the motor came alive. "Nice job, Humphrey." He was about to drive off when he heard a whining.

"Mister… help us, please!" Bolton looked out his window and saw two men with faces creased in agony having crawled next to the car. Blood-trails had been left behind on the concrete where they had dragged themselves. It looked like they were bleeding badly from their crotches.

"Sir… we've been shot… we need help! You got a radio… call for a doctor… Pleeeeeeeease…!"

"Get a job, assholes!" Bolton just spat at them and put his foot on the pedal going after the escapees, leaving the two molesters behind without sparing them a single thought. Bolton didn't know of their crimes - he would have done the same for anyone. In other words: he did nothing as he didn't give a damn for them!

* * *

The Washington police force was at the moment scattered through-out the entire Yutani Mall, attempting to work out what had transpired there. Considering that the shooting had started so closely after the murder at the university, no one was ready to dismiss the possible fact that the two cases were connected. The shooter could very well have sought hiding in the mall after he'd murdered that young student, and the runaway girl could have gone there as well. According to eye-witnesses, and old man had suddenly produced a concealed weapon and starting blasting all around him, hitting several bystanders. But if that were the case, then where were all the bodies? There was clear evidence of a shoot-out along with traces of damage that looked like having they had been caused by a wrecking ball – but no victims. Although that was a relief, it didn't make any sense at all.

The entire perimeter of the mall had been sealed off by the police and the investigators were busy collecting evidence. For a case this big, they needed immediate answers and quick results; that's why they had brought in a mobile command center. A big truck with a trailer equipped with computers and instruments stood parked outside the mall, standing prepared for immediate use. The driver of the truck, Tom Conover waited in the driver's cab, staying out of the way. He was glad he was not part of the mess his police colleagues had to deal with inside – he was on the force solely to drive the big rigs. When Tom did not drive the big truck, he was wheeling the police-buss either to drive prisoners from one spot to another or to drop off police squads on a hot zone. He was not required to take part of any action and it suited him fine. Tom enjoyed driving and staying out of harm's way all while he still served the public trust. When he reached the age of pension, he would buy the largest truck he could find and then simply hit the roads. Life would be so good.

The door to the cab suddenly opened and Tom was about to turn to see who was bothering him when he was suddenly hit violently in his back below the neck. The impact was so forceful that Tom was stunned – he went numb in his whole body and he was close to losing consciousness as well. Someone was getting onto the cab behind him, but Tom couldn't turn his neck – in fact he couldn't move at all or even feel his body. Had he been drugged by a needle? Or was it something worse? The icy cold fear was coursing through Tom Conover's mind; the pain he had felt in his back was located right in the position of his fourth vertebra – if that somehow was broken, then he would spend the rest of his remaining life condemned to a wheelchair, never to be able to move again.

Meanwhile the intruder had gotten into the driver's chair, and now he took hold of Tom's immobile arms and brought them forward to the board. Tom tried to speak, but he could only emit sputtering sounds that was gibberish rather than words. A strong hand that looked raw-beaten non-to-gently placed Tom's numb hand on the palm-print scanner. In his peripheral view he could see another hand pressing the starter-button to activate the screen that would read the palm on the panel to start the engine. _Someone was using him to steal the truck!_ He tried to call for help, but no sound escaped his throat. He used his eyes to try to get a look at the perpetrator; he sought the rear-view mirror in hopes to get a glimpse of… _Jesus Christ!_ No, not Jesus… more like a devil! The eyes of the intruder behind him burned red like lasers and his entire head looked like it was made of silver! He had no more time to interpret what he was seeing – the engine jumped to life and Tom Conover's broken body was suddenly and unceremoniously thrown out of the cab. He landed badly when he hit the ground head-first. His spine was already broken and the impact on the tarmac severed his neck completely. He was dead before his body had stopped rolling by the momentum. But perhaps that fate was preferable to a life confined to a wheelchair.

The 'X'-terminator didn't spend a single thought on the man it had just killed. He had been an obstacle who had only proved useful to start the big rig the machine was now in possession of. That usefulness had ended when the truck's engine was running so the man had been simply discarded. The machine had only recently found its way out of the cellar after having crashed down into the elevator shaft – it was damaged, but not to the extent that it couldn't continue its mission. Once the 'X'-terminator had gotten out it had gone to retrieve its' more heavy armament which had to be hidden before it had entered the mall. Bringing weapons into the galleria in the open would have raised immediate alarm and that would have given it away before the intended target. The absence of those weapons however had given the 'X'-terminator a disadvantage when battling another T-800 – one whose presence had not been anticipated. It didn't feel anger for having been defeated by an outdated model – its main concern and purpose was to continue to follow its instructions: Terminate Rebecca Jorden. And if that rogue unit would continue to stand in the way, then it would be terminated as well!

The 'X'-terminator now had its weapons and it had the means of transportation – now it needed to figure out where the target might have disappeared to. Just then, the police-radio sparked to life:

" _All units! All units! The situation with the runaway girl from the Washington state University has escalated into a kidnapping. Suspected perpetrator is an old man in his sixties. He is armed and is to be considered extremely dangerous."_ The woman speaking through the radio sounded very angry, but to the machine this was irrelevant. _"By request from an agent of the Company, all available cars that are not engaged with something important are to deploy immediately. Suspect has captured a two-seated pick-up and is carrying a motorcycle on the flat-bed. The car was last seen heading south towards the high-way…"_ Here the 'X'-terminator stopped listening. It was busy establishing a link to one of the orbital satellites to plot a route in order to intercept the wanted car. The machine put the gear into position and drove the big rig out, heading for the main road out of Washington.

* * *

Pops was not riding on the main road however. He suspected that the people chasing his protégée would expect him to take the quickest route out of the city. But Pops had taken one of the smaller roads and did not exceed the speed-limit. That way no one would pay any attention to them. Rebecca looked out the rear window, but did not see black car with the company people pursue them. She dared to believe that they might be in the clear, at least for the moment. She turned her attention to the man-thing behind the wheel.

" _Now_ will you tell me where we are going?" she asked.

"We have to get out of the city immediately and avoid the authorities." Pops answered her.

"I _knew_ that much!" Rebecca snapped, feeling annoyed at the machine for avoiding her question.

"I've got a bunker in San Francisco – that's where Sarah Connor grew up. You'll be safe there."

"Was that really so hard to tell me?" Rebecca leaned back in her seat and solemnly looked out the window on her side.

"Security measures needed to be implemented." Pops informed her with his stale tone.

"I know, I know," she sighed. "It's just that I feel like…" She hesitated before finishing.

"Feel like what?"

"Nothing." She decided to be quiet now.

"You are not 'nothing', Rebecca Jorden."

The girl pouted. Why was he misinterpreting her words all the time?

"You are distressed," Pops stated. "It is natural considering all that has happened. It is not the first time I've seen it. Sarah Connor was in the same condition when I rescued her from a T-1000 in 1973 – her parents had been killed and she felt as lost as you do now. I will help you to adapt."

"T-1000? What's that?"

"An advanced type of Terminator. It is composed entirely of mimetic poly-alloy. The liquid metal gives the T-1000 the advantage of imitating any surface or person it samples by physical contact as long as it is of equal size. Also it is able to form solid metal shapes like knives and stabbing weapons. Fortunately there don't seem to be one sent after you. They are difficult to terminate."

"Liquid metal? Like you?"

"You're very observant, Rebecca Jorden! Just like my Sarah! I actually see a bit of her in you. And as you have seen, I used to be a regular T-800, but I managed to upgrade myself after my battle against John Connor."

" _John_ Connor? Another Connor? Is he related too?"

"He was Sarah Connor's son."

"And you _battled_ him?" To Rebecca it was like the more details she heard, the more confusing it got. Pops seemed to realize this, so he told her everything: how Skynet was created by Miles Bennet Dyson and what its original purpose were. Pops continued with how in the original timeline John Connor became the leader of the resistance after Judgment Day and that Skynet sent a terminator back through time to kill his mother. Kyle Reese, a soldier of the future was sent back through time after it to Protect Sarah Connor and to father her son before he died. But then the time-line was changed and the events were played out differently. Kyle Reese had survived while John Connor had become the enemy when he was joined with Skynet and had been transformed into composition of nano-machines and was sent to 2014 to ensure the creation of Skynet through the Genisys-network.

"Gripes. That story just gave me one hell of a headache!" Rebecca remarked after Pops was finished with the history-lesson. "But if Skynet was defeated, doesn't that mean that John was never taken over by it afterwards?"

"In the new timeline after Skynet's defeat in 2017, John Connor never came to be." Pops explained. "John Connor was meant to be conceived in 1984 during the short time Kyle Reese was there, but that changed when he and Sarah time-jumped to 2017. After the victory they had all the time in the world – it wasn't until a few years after that Sarah and Kyle had their only child – her name was Emilia Connor."

"A girl – not a boy." Rebecca stated.

"Yes. And she married a man named Sumner. It was at that time the name Connor was starting to drop out from your lineage. And two generations of male offspring later there was a daughter who married a man named Jorden: their grandson was your father Russell Jorden."

"Where you with them? Where you with all those kids through the years?"

"No. I went back to my bunker in 2033 – I've been there ever since, only active enough to watch over the passing generations and keeping updated with the lineage. Other than that I was off-line. I haven't walked this earth for almost 150 years until I learned that new terminators had arrived and you were in need. There was always the possibility that Skynet would one day return to power."

Rebecca looked nervous. "Does that mean that the war you told me of is still going to happen?"

"Possibly. It has always been Skynet's primary goal to wipe out the human population."

"W-when?"

"I do not know. I don't have any files of this future."

"You mean that there's nothing to do then? It is inevitable? We're all going to die in a nuclear blast?"

Pops looked at the girl. "The future is not set."

"What?"

"'The future's not set. There's no fate but what we make for ourselves.' That's the Connor family motto."

"My _father_ said that once! Right after he had volunteered to out into the outskirts of Acheron! He went out there in hopes of finding something that would make us rich, but…" Rebecca shuddered. Instead of wealth her father had found a horrible death. She tried not to think about it. "I thought it was just a speech! What does it mean?"

"It means that we can still change the future if we can gather enough Intel. We may have to make some drastic moves, but perhaps we can still prevent the war from happening – as long as no one tries to stop us."

Just then Rebecca happened to throw a glance right outside the rear window again. "You mean like them trying to stop us?"

Pops looked in the rear view mirror. Several police cars were approaching them from behind with noise and cherry's activated.


	12. Road-games

Author's notes: It never occurred to me that I might have confused many of my readers in the last chapter. I think I again should point out that this is an alternate universe which I stated in my summary.

It's about John Connor: since he was supposed to be conceived originally in 1984, I feel his existence have become completely deleted since he fell out of place in the timeline after Sarah and Kyle time-jumped ahead to 2017. In my eyes, Terminator Genisys created one big paradox which has created a whole new future and I was attempting to pick up a thread from the end of that.

What Pops first was telling Newt/Rebecca is how history looked like originally according to his documented files, but that has changed into a whole new time-line in which they are living now and in which John Connor no longer has a place. And since the war was prevented after Skynet's defeat when Cyberdyne was destroyed in the movie, John was no longer essential - especially not since his fate was to become the enemy.

Thank you to Independent Dude for pointing this out to me.

On with the story.

* * *

The 'X'-terminator were really picking up speed in the stolen police truck dragging the heavy trailer that was the mobile command center. The highway it was driving on was one of the new roads being laid to the ground during the past years - it was as straight as you could make them with no curves or any slopes. It was like traveling on the German autobahn where you could go to the country's highest recommended top-speed without risking flying off the road. What would have confused the terminator if it had been capable of feeling confusion was why it not yet had spotted the fugitives it was chasing. They shouldn't have gotten that far ahead and to avoid detection, the rogue unit would probably not exceed the speed-limit unless it had to. But if they were on this road, then the 'X'-terminator would catch up with them sooner or later.

Just then the police-radio sparked to life again: _"Dispatch, this is 2-WS32 following the suspect vehicle on the old road together with two other patrol-cars. From what I can tell, the kidnapped girl is in the stolen car, but the driver is showing no hint of slowing down despite our signals. Please advice! Over."_

Now the 'X'-terminator understood – it was a tactical move on the rogue unit's side. Instead of traveling on the fastest route out of the city it had taken a detour on a slower one to avoid detection. The police should in theory have expected the fugitives to get out as fast as possible on the highway, but somehow they hadn't bought it. The 'X'-terminator however had made an error, but that error might actually work in its favor.

" _2-WS32, is the suspect showing any hostility? Over."_ The police-radio continued to report.

" _That's a negative. He's just maintaining speed to keep his distance. Over."_

" _2-WS32, as long as the suspect is not showing hostility, you are not clear to use weapons! Repeat, do not use weapons! The hostage must not be put in any danger. Over!"_

" _Roger, Dispatch, we will hold fire."_ The police officer on the radio did not sound happy about it. " _We will keep on his tail, but you had better think of something to intercept him further up the road. Over and out!"_

The police weren't able to do much else, but the 'X'-terminator did not have such restrictions. The runaway vehicle needed to be intercepted and that's what 'X'-terminator was going to do. It put the pedal even further down to the metal and with the speed it was picking up, it would soon get ahead of them on this road. The mission to terminate Rebecca Jorden was soon going to be completed.

* * *

The cyborg in the stolen police truck weren't the only one who had over-heard the conversation on the radio. The two agents from Weyland-Yutani Company were also keeping themselves updated on the progress. They were still a few miles behind the fugitives.

"Fools!" young agent Humphrey spat. "How do you expect to stop a runaway car if you can't open fire on them?" He kept his eyes on the satellite linked-up padd which was tracing the bugged mobile-phone as he said this.

"You're actually being a little unfair now," the older and more experienced agent Bolton said. "Do you know what happens every time a police officer fires his gun? The citizens of America then scream 'Police brutality' and demand his head on a stick. Police may be armed, but to use them will always be considered an unnecessary use of force. And the reaction risk being much greater in this case since a juvenile is involved."

Humphrey laughed. "Ironic, isn't it? The American citizens has demanded the right to carry weapons themselves for _years_ , but the actual law-enforcement whose job is to protect them are to be _disarmed!_ God, you gotta _love_ this country!"

"Do you still have a lock on the signal?" Bolton asked, indicating to the padd.

"Don't worry," Humphrey said in a dismissive tone. "Even if the cops can't do much, there's no place on this earth where the brat can hide as long as she hangs on to that phone. We'll get her sooner or later."

* * *

"That was too quick!" Pops stated.

"What was?" Rebecca asked carefully.

"I did expect them to find us, but not this quickly! It's like they knew where we are headed!" Pops used his scanners within the pickup's interior to try to find something out of the ordinary. But much of it was already out of the ordinary since there had been some modifications to the control-board since his time. An idea came to him. "Rebecca Jorden! In addition to the palm-print scanner, did the manufacturers install GPS-locator cards in every vehicle?"

"I… I'm not sure. It's… common in the public commute services, I suppose. I've heard its standard in industry transports, police cars, fire trucks and ambulances. The military use them frequently too. But I don't know if such things are installed in private cars."

"I've been out of touch for too long," Pops said in reply. He looked in the rear view mirror again – the police were on their tracks, but they couldn't do much at the moment. As long as Pops maintained present speed he could hold the distance from their pursuers. He couldn't do this forever though. "How much is that Weyland-Yutani Company involved in that system?" he asked the girl.

"They _own_ it!" Rebecca said assured. She may be quite young, but she had picked up a lot since she had lived in one of the Company's colonies. "They've nestled their way into everything!"

"Are you carrying any electronic devices?"

"W-why do you ask?"

"That _company_ car:" Pops looked at her in a way that the girl found sharply. She involuntarily cringed under that stare. "They arrived in the same moment I had captured this vehicle, so they couldn't have been tracking this! They already knew we were there! How could they unless you are carrying something?"

"B-but I don't _have_ anything!" She felt she was being accused - she didn't like the feeling. "I've lost it all! The only thing I've managed to save is…" Then it dawned on her. "My phone!" she whispered.

"Give it to me!" Pops demanded. Trembling, she fished the phone out of her pocket and handed it to the cyborg. He instantly scanned it with his sensors. "This thing has been modified!" Pops declared. "It has an extra powerful locator-chip, complete with a spy-transmitter and an independent power-source! This phone is bugged! How did you come into possession of this?"

"They _gave_ it to me!" Rebecca was ready to break down in tears. How could she have been so naïve? To think that the Company was feeling generous to provide her with a device that all kids had today for free? She should have _known_ that there was something behind it! Keeping the steering-wheel steady with his elbows, Pops opened up the cell-phone and disconnected the tracking-device.

* * *

In the company-car, agent Humphrey could only stare in shock as the blip on his padd disappeared.

"WHAT?! NO! NO! _No no no no no no noooooo!"_ The young agent shook the padd in frustration.

"What happened?" Bolton asked.

"I've lost the signal!" Humphrey said in disbelief.

"Weird." Bolton said, more calmly that his colleague. "She couldn't have found the tracker – she must've been careless with the phone somehow. No matter. The police are still on her tail, so we know where she is anyway."

* * *

Pops handed the now switched off cell back to its owner. "You had best keep it inactive for the time being," he told her. "In case they have other methods to track it."

Rebecca looked at it in distaste. She was ready to throw it out the window. "They've been _spying_ on me this whole time! They must've seen _everything_ I've written into it! Then they knew that I was mistreated by my grandparents and in school – and they didn't give a damn! Those _bastards!_ They were fine with it as long as I was out of the way!"

"Why are they after you?" Pops asked her.

"Because I know what they _did!"_ she spat. "The company deliberately sacrificed my whole colony to get their hands on a monster! 150 people dead! And they don't want me to tell anybody, that's why they put me with my grandparents – they didn't believe a word I was saying! I'm surprised the Company didn't just try to _kill_ me to keep me silenced…" Then she halted, as if a thought just hit her. "Pops! Is that why the terminators are after me? To keep me silenced?"

"I don't see how that can be connected," Pops said. "Terminators are a product of Skynet, not of the Weyland-Yutani Company. Skynet should not have any interest in what the Company has done, that is irrelevant to it. It looks like there are two fractions after you instead of just one."

"Great! It's nice to be popular." She sighed and looked out in the car's mirror. The police were still following them with lights and sound. "What are we going to do about them?"

"They won't take action as long as I don't provoke them. And they don't dare do anything as long as you are in the car, you being a juvenile. But somehow I do need to lose them and I don't know how. At least not yet. An opportunity might still present itself."

* * *

On the highway that ran parallel to the old road, the 'X'-terminator had thanks to the straight line and higher speed managed to get ahead of the fugitives. It was linked to the satellites which monitored traffic situations and the machine saw that there was a junction ahead that would allow travelers from the old road to get on the new one – but the 'X'-terminator had another course of action in mind. It hit the brakes to slow down right before that junction and then it turned the wheel to the right to get over to the other roadway. Its action caused a traffic-jam as the cars behind the big rig had to hit the brakes to avoid collision – but that in turn caused the cars to hit each other instead. Horns were blaring and screams of anger came out from the vehicles. Their protests were indifferent to the machine, it only continued the u-turn off the highway and over to the other road. Once there the 'X'-terminator built up the speed again and the big police truck rushed off, against the direction of the traffic! The meeting cars had to swerve out of the way as the rig shot forwards against them, relentlessly claiming the road for itself and going on to a collision-course with one particular car that was now approaching further down ahead.

* * *

"POPS!" Rebecca screamed in warning when she saw the unbelievable danger ahead of them.

"I see it," her protector said neutrally. His long-range sensors were already analyzing the approaching truck. "It's him! The terminator that was about to kill you in the mall."

"He's going to ram into us!"

"That is most likely his plan." Pops took hold of his Winchester. "Make sure you got your seat-belt on and get down!"

"What are you going to do? You can't play chicken against _that_ thing!"

Pops turned his head and flashed a big toothy grin at her. "Trust me," he said. If that smile was meant to reassure her, it did quite the opposite. It was the ugliest smile she had ever seen. "Ooh, I am so going to die," she muttered as she ducked down.

The distance between the two running vehicles were shortening rapidly – Pops leaned out his window with his gun in his hand and let out a burst against the big truck. The windshield to the driver's cab shattered, but it did not sway the terminator the least. Instead it retaliated and fired a round of its own against the pick-up with a 12-gage pump action shotgun. Rebecca screamed as the windshield exploded and tiny pieces of glass rained over her.

Neither cyborg deviated from their course – frontal collision would soon be unavoidable. Pops flip-cocked his Winchester and let loose another round, this time against the engine compartment. Unfortunately it had little effect. The 'X' also cocked the shotgun it carried and gave it to the driver in the approaching pick-up. Pops swerved a little just in time to avoid getting hit – the pellets passed right by his head and shattered the rear window.

"Hang on!" Pops called and fired again – but this time he aimed for the truck's right wheel. The tire blew out, but the momentum the truck was carrying was still running it forward straight ahead, so the 'X'-terminator did not notice at once what the other had done. Just before collision was inevitable, Pops threw the steering-wheel to the right, making the pick-up turn sharply to the side. "The 'X' had anticipated such move and responded with turning his wheel to the left, fully intending to ram into the smaller vehicle. But it was here that 'X' had miscalculated: since it had not noticed that the right tire had been blown off, it offered no resistance at all as 'X' attempted to turn the big rig. The truck overbalanced on the right side and the under-body suddenly kissed the ground. The metal grind against the tarmac and got caught while the momentum was still pushing it forward.

The police truck tipped over: cab and trailer both! Pops avoided and passed by the crashing body just in time and went ahead. The pursuing police cars however did not have skills which Pops possessed. The truck with its heavy load was now gliding forward on its side across the whole roadway, leaving no room for them to pass by. At least one car crashed into the trailer while the other two had to throw themselves off the road to avoid collision. After a few meters the truck finally came to a halt, blocking the whole road. As for the pick-up; it disappeared in the horizon and was soon gone.

The police officers that had driven off-road got out of their cars, rushing to the smoking wreck to see if there were any survivors. At first there was no sign of activity, but then the door of the cab blasted straight up into the air, and a monstrous machine with glowing red eyes clad in rags crawled out of the wreckage. The police officers drew their guns and were going to blast that robot into pieces – unfortunately the robot was armed. The scene of the accident now turned into a scene of slaughter as well as the machine opened fire at its adversaries.

* * *

The two agents had stopped several meters back from the crashed rig, witnessing how the machine moved the police officers down with the weapons it possessed.

"You know," Humphrey said not so eagerly anymore. "I think this might just about be a little bit out of our league."

"I completely agree with you." Bolton said and turned the car around. He took his radio and called for an immediate roadblock to this road – not for the sake of civilians traveling towards the crash-site, (although that was the official reason he gave), but so that they could drive in the direction opposite than it was meant to go so that they could get out of there without meeting any other vehicle.

"You know, the boss is not going to be happy about this." Humphrey stated. "You do realize that we have lost the girl? We have no way to know where she will take refuge now!"

"We may have to take some drastic measures…" Bolton replied, for once not so assured. He was a bit shaken up after what he had seen. What the heck was that thing that was after that girl? Whatever it was, Bolton hoped they wouldn't have to face it themselves.


	13. The news-broadcast

They had to abandon the pickup shortly thereafter. Not only was it too badly damaged after the shooting, but both the authorities and the enemy terminator now knew that the fugitives were riding in that car. Pops had stopped on a side-road where he unloaded his motorcycle (which was miraculously unharmed after the shooting) and showed the wreckage out on the field to make it disappear out of sight. There were no witnesses to this as the road behind them was blocked a few miles back by the police truck that had fallen over on its side. Pops mounted his bike and put Rebecca in front of him and then they continued their journey. The cyborg actually used some of his own poly-alloy to form a helmet around the child's head. While someone might ignore an old man for not protecting his head, they would instantly call the police if they saw a child not wearing a helmet on an MC. He wasn't planning on them riding this way for too long though – they required a new vehicle: preferably one that would not have a GPS-locator card installed within it.

After another couple of miles they reached a highway-stop that had both gas and a restaurant. Pops drove in there and parked – he allowed the child to get off before he shut the engine off. Rebecca hurriedly took off the 'helmet'.

"Whew! Take it, take it! That was too weird!"

"Why?" Pops asked as he took back the protective shell. "I made it so that it would mimic the real thing."

"Maybe so, but it still came from you! It was like… carrying one of your _organs_ on my head!"

"Unlikely. The helmet I provided you is not made of any living intestines. My mimetic poly-alloy cover is a compact mass of liquid metal which fills the spaces completely around my hyper-alloy combat chassis. There is no room or even the need to form internal organs within."

Rebecca rolled her eyes upwards. "You know what: forget it!" Sometimes it was really impossible to express her feelings with this machine as he kept misunderstanding her all the time. Meanwhile Pops made a show of putting the 'helmet' down in one of the bags in case someone was watching. Within the bag though, he re-absorbed the metal into his own body. The helmet melted and disappeared into his' hands.

Rebecca looked over at the restaurant, feeling a sense of hopelessness course through her. "You know, I don't like being one to complain, but did we have to stop here? I'm so hungry that I can't even handle the smell of food."

"I know. I picked up the vibrations from your stomach. And I register that you are fatigued by lack of energy. You are in need of sustenance; that's one of the reasons why I stopped here."

"I do need food, but… I don't have any money to buy some."

"I do. Go and fetch a table. I will order you a meal." Rebecca was so hungry and eager for food that she didn't ask the machine where he had got the money, and it was just as well that she didn't know. As an infiltration unit, plus the fact that Pops had worked undercover at Cyberdyne for several years, he was well aware of the need of money to get by in society. He had in fact taken the opportunity within the mall where he had battled the 'X'-terminator to help himself with this year's currency from one of cash registers in the abandoned shops. An illegal move yes, but one he deemed was made out of necessity. He was going to make sure to teach the child to make the right decision in the future though; he did not want to make her into a crook.

Pops ordered two hamburger menus with fries and a large Coke. From the clerk's point of view, it would look like the old man had just ordered one meal each for both he and the child so that it wouldn't look suspicious. Since the girl was so hungry she would probably eat both. His CPU was adaptable and could anticipate many situations – yet he could never have anticipated how expensive everything had got since his time. He couldn't help but wonder if he had somehow been hassled as he paid for the meal. Now as he had the food he went over to the table where Rebecca sat waiting. He put the food down before her as he sat down. "Knock yourself out." The girl didn't need to be told twice – she threw herself over the food like a starving wolf.

"Don't eat too quickly," he advised her. "It might upset your stomach as it is empty."

"I'll try," she said between the morsels. "This is good… never eaten a hamburger this juicy before… all the food back in my colony were freeze-dried or unprocessed… wouldn't survive transportation otherwise… and my grandparents never let me eat this kind of food… their diet was specifically according to their belief… mostly bread and vegetables…"

"Your grandparents are gone," Pops said. "You are free to explore new routines."

"Yeah, but… while I feel bad that they are dead, I don't really mourn them. Does that make me a bad person? They were my mother's parents, but… I don't miss them as much as I miss my mom."

"I have no files on kinship attachments – I cannot give you a clear answer. But I suppose you don't mourn them because they treated you badly."

"They still gave me a roof and a bed though…"

"Eat, Rebecca Jorden… you will have plenty of time to contemplate on it later." The girl fell silent and continued to stuff herself. Meanwhile Pops looked around within the restaurant as well as outside. On the parking lot he spotted something interesting - and old Camaro: a relic from an era that he was actually familiar with, before the palm-print scanners and locator cards. It should be untraceable. Pops wondered who the owner was, so he scanned the interior of the restaurant to see if he could find somebody who could match the car in style. He spotted no one in particular, but his attention was drawn to the far corner where a TV-set was mounted below the roof. There seemed to be some news going on. He enhanced his audio receivers to listen in.

"… _six police officers confirmed dead in the middle of the old highway from Washington._ " The news-reader was saying on the screen. " _While it is still a jumble on what has happened that caused this massive accident which afterwards escalated to slaughter, it is clear that the murderer is unidentified and at large. Everybody who lives in the vicinity to the scene of the crime is coerced to stay indoors and not open the door to strangers. Meanwhile the old road remains blocked to all traffic and commuters are advised to take the main highway for the time being._

" _On further news, the Bianca Horsepower-homicide has taken a whole new level as the witnesses interviewed claim that the industrialist's daughter was in fact_ _ **not**_ _the intended target! Although the police are not so willing to confirm this fact, a detective willing to give statement do admit that this look like being the case. We go to Detective Connelly; Washington State Police:_ "

The picture changed to an image of a man being interviewed, his name being written out on the bottom of the screen. " _I cannot go into much detail because of the nature of the investigation, but it does appear that there was a clear case of mistaken identity._ "

" _Who was the real target?_ " the reporter outside of the screen asked.

" _Because of the nature of the investigation, I will not reveal the name at this time._ "

" _Why does somebody want to kill a young girl? Have you found any motive?_ "

" _I'm sorry: No comment during the ongoing investigation!_ " the detective said.

" _But what about the girl that was supposed to be hit? Where is she now?_ "

" _No more questions! I won't answer any more questions!_ "

The screen changed back to the news-reader. " _Unfortunately we couldn't get so much more out of the surviving witnesses either as their parents fear retribution from the killer who is still at large. We did however get a comment from Walter Horsepower, father of the deceased. Please note that that this clip has been sound-adjusted._ "

The image changed again, this time to a red-faced middle-aged man who was screaming into the camera: " _How can a stupid son-of-a-_ BEEEP _mistake my daughter for a_ BEEEP _-ing low class little_ BEEEP?" The screen changed back. " _The rest of Walter Horsepower's statement was not suitable to be expressed to the public. Please stay tuned for new information on later news-casts._ "

Although he would not show such expressions, Pops was pleased. The authorities would not give away the child's identity and they had no idea where to start looking for her. He had therefore the adequate time he required to get her to safety. That changed however as somebody passed a new piece of paper to the news-reader on the screen.

" _This just in!_ " he said eagerly. " _While the police refuse to give out the intended victim's identity, the Weyland-Yutani Company is of a different opinion! The girl in question is missing after her grandparents have been murdered and she is feared to be kidnapped. The girl is part of one of their rehabilitation-programs so they feel that it is their responsibility to make sure that she is brought back to safety. The weyland-Yutani Company is therefore offering a reward of 500 000 dollars for any information that will locate her current whereabouts._ "

Here many heads snapped up to the TV-screen as the promise of a large reward summoned the greed within each person.

" _Please give a moment for our technicians to load up an included picture –and there we have it! This girl: Rebecca Jorden, seven years of age is missing,"_ A picture of the child now filled out the screen. _"- presumed kidnapped and in danger of being assassinated. If you have any information of where this child was last seen, please call the following number…_ "

Pops got up from his seat – this TV news-cast has changed everything. And with the promise of a reward in the pot, time and discretion was a luxury they perhaps no longer had. Pops was forced to act quickly. "We have to go now!" he told the girl.

"Now?" Rebecca asked. She had not seen or heard a word from the TV. "But… I'm still eating?"

"Bring it with you. But we need to leave immediately!" Rebecca picked up the determination in Pops' vocabulary so she didn't object any further. Collecting all the food, she followed him out of the restaurant – it appeared that no one was paying them any attention, they were still preoccupied with watching the TV-screen. On the outside, Pops led the child to a secluded corner where there was a bench just outside the lavatories. He indicated to her to sit down there.

"Stay here and eat your food. I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to acquire another transport," he said, walking away.

"Pops!" Rebecca called after him. The cyborg turned around. "Don't hurt anybody! Okay?"

"Right," he said and continued his way. On the parking-lot, he saw that the owner of the Camaro had showed up. With determined strides, he walked up to the parked vehicle.

"Excuse me, Sir," he addressed the owner. "I happened to notice this car of yours. It's a classic, right? Late 20:th century veteran?"

"Yeah," the driver said suspiciously. "What of it?"

"I have a deal to offer you…"

Ten minutes later the Camaro drove up right to the bench where Rebecca was just finishing her meal. The vehicle stopped in front of her and the passenger door opened up – she saw Pops sitting behind the wheel. "Get in," he told her.

The girl's reply had a challenge in her tone. "What did you do to the owner?"

"Nothing," Pops said. "If anything: I made him happy."

"Happy? How did you manage that?"

"I traded my motorcycle for this car. It was from the same era, but since it stood unused for over 150 years, it was in much better condition that this vehicle is. Although it does look grandeur, this car is actually worn out and is close to be in an obsolete condition. It will hold long enough to take us to our destination though. The former owner was therefore the one making the good bargain."

Rebecca was impressed as she got inside. "You actually made an honest deal? I thought you were going to steal it?"

"Not this time," Pops said as he drove back out to the highway. "A satisfied costumer never returns to complain – not even to the police. And discretion is right now our most powerful defense." Pops fell silent for a few seconds like if he was thinking of something. "Or is it?" he added.

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked him. "Should we not rely on discretion?"

"Not on the long run, Rebecca Jorden. I just got an idea… however you may not like it."

* * *

Fifteen minutes earlier…

Area 51 in Nevada was the home-base of many military secrets. There were many speculations on what was going on in there, but no one on the outside ever found out anything. The personal and soldiers working there were specifically picked for the job with signed non-disclosure agreements – none of them would ever give away anything as spilling was an offense that would lead to an immediate court-martial. There were activity going on round the clock, and most of the soldiers were on duty. Three of them weren't however at the moment – the trio of grunts were enjoying some time off in the recreational lounge on the base, playing poker and consuming light beer. A TV set was on behind them: _"… it is clear that the murderer is unidentified and at large,_ " it said. But none were paying much attention to it – their respective focus was on their cards.

"I'll buy two cards." The young soldier said. He was a gambler by heart – even though he had some talent with the game, he liked taking risks. The acting croupier who was the veteran among the three traded the two cards and took a look at his own hand. "I'll keep mine," he decided. "How about you?" he addressed the third player. This was the dangerous one when it came to playing cards: he had an excellent poker-face – never giving anything away. Some said that his face was completely fixed because of the scar he had, and there could be a truth in it: he rarely ever changed expression. Neither did he now as he silently declined any change of cards - he never spoke much.

The young soldier looked at his hand - he had a straight Flush in spades: one to five. He tried to conceal a grin as he put a couple of his markers in the pot. "I'll wager ten," he said.

The veteran allowed his gaze to wander between the youngster and the pile on the table before it finally rested on his own hand: four Nines. The kid seemed to be sure of his cards, and he needed to see just how much sure he was: the veteran took another ten of his own markers and added that to the pile. "How about you, buddy?" he asked the scarred man.

Meanwhile on the TV: _"I cannot go into much detail because of the nature of the investigation, but it does appear that there was a clear case of mistaken identity._ "

The third of the party met the gaze of the other two, completely passive in his face. His own hand consisted of a Full House: three Queens and two Tens. Let's see how far they were willing to play – he too added ten markers.

"Thirty in the pot," the young one stated while he took a swig of his beer. "I'll raise with another ten."

So the kid obviously felt he had a good hand, the veteran thought. He tried to read the face of his other opponent, but that was a face of effort. The scarred man gave nothing away.

Just then the TV in the background showed Walter Horsepower's reaction: " _How can a stupid son-of-a-_ BEEEP _mistake my daughter for a_ BEEEP _-ing low class little_ BEEEP?"

"Boy, he sure sounded angry," the kid remarked as he overheard the interview.

"He lost his daughter to a murderer, wouldn't you be angry?" the veteran calmly retorted.

"Yeah, but blaming it on a 'low class'? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"What I find extreme is that somebody out there murder little kids," the veteran pointed out. "Now, are you playing cards or are you going to comment on other people's misfortune?"

"I just raised. It's your turn."

"Right. I'll raise with another ten." The veteran put ten more markers. Now two sets of eyes turned to the quiet scarred man. Without changing expression, he doubled the stakes.

"Are you kidding me?" the kid said surprised. "You just added _fifty_ to the fifty?"

"I fold," the veteran said and put down his cards on the table.

" _This just in!_ " the TV said. " _While the police refuse to give out the intended victim's identity, the Weyland-Yutani Company is of a different opinion!"_

The kid didn't look so sure anymore. Was the guy bluffing, or did he really have a good hand? But he had a Flush! Surely he couldn't beat that? Unfortunately it was impossible to read any expressions of the other. The greed eventually won out. He considered putting the rest of his markers to the pile.

" _The Weyland-Yutani Company is therefore offering a reward of 500 000 dollars for any information that will locate her current whereabouts,_ " said the TV in the background.

The scarred man leaned back in his chair to psyche the kid – he was going to give him one last chance to back out before he added everything he had. Calmly he put the bottle to his mouth and poured the liquid in while he allowed his gaze to momentarily land on the TV-screen.

" _This girl: Rebecca Jorden, seven years of age is missing,_ " A picture of a blond child filled out the screen. "… _presumed kidnapped and in danger of being assassinated._ "

" _SPRUUUTCHHH!_ "

The liquid sprayed all over the table as the scarred man in a clear state of shock spat it out and he leaned closer with his eyes completely fixed to the screen, cards totally forgotten. The two players were bewildered and a bit shocked as well. During the year they had known him, they had never seen him act this way before.

"What's the matter, buddy?" the veteran asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost?"

"As a matter of fact," Corporal Dwayne Hicks said with a tone of disbelief. "I just _did!_ "


	14. The prisoner

" _Blundering nincompoops!_ " the voice in the phone was screaming in agent Humphrey's ear. " _Morons! Fools!_ "

"B-but Sir…" Humphrey stammered. "How were we supposed to know that it..? I mean, if somebody just had told us that…"

" _Don't try to make excuses, Humphrey! You know damn well that it is your job to take every possibility into consideration! As you also should know that we don't go public with sensitive cases!_ "

"But, Sir… who would listen to a kid's fantasies?"

" _Someone might well start to listen if a contact is made! That must not happen, Humphrey! Fix this mess or you're_ _ **fired**_ _!_ _ **Both of you!**_ " There was a click in the phone telling the agent that the line had been disconnected. Had the carrier-wave been able to transmit the boss' true emotions when he'd hit the off-button, the click would've sounded much fiercer. Humphrey gloomily pocketed his phone and sat down at the table in the bar where he and agent Bolton for the moment resided this early morning.

"I heard," Bolton said. "It appears that we were a bit hasty with our offer of reward."

"Yeah. We screwed up big time." Humphrey confirmed. "How were we to know that the surviving grunt from LV-426 was under the impression that the brat was dead? Now that program has been blown as well because of the statement we let the TV have yesterday."

Bolton sighed. "Four different divisions dealt with each of the survivors, and none were conferring with the other. The only shared order they all had was: 'To ensure permanent separation, none of the survivors is to ever find out anything vital about the other'. Well, thanks for sharing that information with us!" He sipped his drink in frustration.

"The boss' orders were clear enough:" the younger said as he poured up another glass of Whiskey. "…either we fix this or we're fired. But how the hell are we going to do that? We don't even know where the brat is, thanks to that bloody old man who showed up and grabbed her before our eyes!"

"If we only still had a satellite-lock on her phone, then it wouldn't be a problem." Bolton grumbled. "But it is still out, isn't it?"

"What else would it be?" Humphrey snapped.

"Check it."

"What's the point to check it…?"

" _Do it!_ You never know."

Annoyed as he felt that it was a waste of time, Humphrey fetched the padd that was monitoring the satellite-feed. But as he turned it on though, he got mighty surprised. "The signal! It's back!"

"Finally a stroke of luck," Bolton said as he straightened up. "Where are they?"

"Medford, near the border to California! They must've been traveling from Washington non-stop to get that far in such a short time!"

"They must have a goal somewhere and they need to pass through California to get there obviously. We need to intercept them! Let us head to the local main office. There's a jet-driven helicopter we can use to get ahead of them!" Bolton got up and was already on his way. "Let us not screw up this time!"

"Question is, what do we do with them once we catch them?"

"I'm surprised at you, Humphrey. Who said anything about catching them? The boss said to clean this mess up, which means that the gloves are off! That child must be made silent! _Permanently!_ "

* * *

She was running through the dark alleys of the city –running as fast as she could, but there seemed to be no way to outrun the black car that was chasing her. And the people on the streets did not seem to care about her problems – the adults just looked the other way. The kids however were pointing at her as she ran past them; laughing and teasing.

"PISSYPANTS!" the kids screamed and laughed. PUSSYFACE! LOW-LIFE SCUM! SMELLY CAT!" _Smelly!_ Indeed she smelled, because she was back in her school uniform that had been sprayed with sulfur and the smell of rotten eggs made her gag. Meanwhile the car from the Company got even closer behind her and now there was a voice coming from inside that.

"There's nowhere to run, Jorden!" The voice in the car said menacingly. "There's no place to hide! We will get you, and when we do you better be _nice_ to us – then maybe we will be nice to you!"

She rounded a corner in her attempt to get away, and it was there she saw a sanctuary: her grandparents' house! Quickly she rushed inside and slammed the door shut, putting a barrier between her antagonists and would-be molesters. Now she needed to find her grandparents – maybe they would help her. She found them in the living room: they were kneeling before a giant cross.

"Grandmother! You have to help me! There are people chasing me…"

"Hush, child," the old woman said. "Can't you see that we are in the middle of a prayer?"

"But there's evil people after me," she pleaded. "And evil robots who want to kill me!"

"Then pray to God, child. He will protect you."

"But they're out there _right now!_ "

"You heard your grandmother, girl!" her grandfather now said harshly. "Pray to God and you will be safe! God will _always_ save us!"

"He didn't save you!" she pointed out. "You're dead! You been shot!" And indeed, the old couples' bodies were full of bleeding bullet holes. Her grandfather stood up, glaring angrily at her.

"You insolent little runt!" he roared. I'm telling you, God protects us! And if you want to be safe, then you _will_ give your prayers to him!"

"He doesn't care! No one cares!"

"Yes, he does! And I'm going to make you see that if I so am going to have to _beat_ it into you!" The old man now held a whip in his hand which he raised above his head. " _Pray to God!_ "

She backed away. "No!"

"PRAY, YOU BLASPHEMER! PRAY!"

She turned away and ran off, with her grandfather chasing her this time. Quickly she escaped into her room and locked the door.

" _You will perish in hell, girl!_ " her grandfather screamed through the door. She turned around and faced hell – her own personal one, that is. It wasn't her room she had escaped into: she now stood in the complex under the atmosphere processing station on LV-426, the worst hell-hole she had known. She was once again dressed in the dirty torn clothes she had worn for so long when she was alone, surrounded by the horrible alien eggs. On the walls were her fellow colonists, cocooned and with torn open chests – and of course _them!_ She could hear them crawling on the walls concealed in the shadows, hissing and breathing. She was so afraid that she almost cried. She looked around for any means of escape – and under an alcove she saw her. Ripley! The grown-up was sitting in a chair in front of the computer terminals that she had seen inside the marine APC. She was sitting with her back turned against her and with a big shot-gun in her lap. So why wasn't she using it?

"Ripley!" she cried out to her. "Help me, please!"

"We've been over this, Newt," the woman said without turning around. "I've already done my part. I've got other things to do than running around saving you all the time."

"But why? I thought you loved me! Why do you hate me so?"

"Love? Hate? It had nothing to do with that. You were just a mission."

The girl tried a different approach. "But is your mission finished? I'm still in trouble. Won't you complete it?"

"Now that is a different matter," the woman said. "I do have a mission, and I do need to finish it."

"Then why don't you?"

"Why not, indeed?" Ripley finally turned around in her chair to face her, but the girl jumped back in fear when she saw her. The woman's pupils in her eyes were glowing _red_ like lasers-dots! And her face looked like it was made of metal! And now her gun was pointing at her!

"NO! _Ripley!_ Not _you_ too!" the girl cried. "Why do you want to kill me?!"

"Because you are a Connor!" Terminator Ripley said. "And all Connors must die!" She cocked the gun. "Mission accomplished!" The gun fired…

…and Rebecca woke up with a start in the backseat of the Camaro where she had been dozing. She tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes, desperately wanting to forget the horrible dream she just had. She felt that her face was wet from tears.

"You didn't sleep that well," Pops said from the driver's seat. They were still traveling.

"I rarely do…" the girl said with a quivering voice, wiping her face dry with her sleeve. "Did… did I say anything in my sleep?"

"No. But you were moaning inarticulately. Your dreams must not have been pleasant."

Rebecca did not confirm this to Pops as she didn't want to talk about it. Instead she sat up and leaned forward between the two front seats. "Where are we?" she asked.

"We passed the border into California just a few minutes ago," the cyborg answered with his usual neutral tone. "We only got a few hours more, and then we're there." It would have gone faster if they had traveled on the highway, but Pops insisted on sticking to the smaller and slower roads to remain inconspicuous. Besides, he wanted to let enough time pass by to allow his plan to take effect. He had spoken to the girl about his new idea after they had left the restaurant – she had as he had warned her been reluctant to it at first, but once she had been allowed to process the idea she had come to realize that it might solve a lot of her problems.

"Do you really think they will take the bait?" she asked him.

"If they are as intent to get their hands on you as they appear to be, then they should." The 'bait' Rebecca was referring to was the homing-beacon in her cell-phone – Pops had reactivated it a few hours ago. To implement the plan Pops had thought up, they needed the company-people to find her location again. Strategically thinking, the federal people should set up an ambush to intercept the fugitives at a key-point somewhere in California, and that's when Pops would take action.

Rebecca leaned back in her seat, falling silent once more. The dream she had just had still hurt, especially the part with Ripley shooting at her. She knew it was just in her own distressed mind, but it did remind her of the heartbreak she had felt when she'd received that letter from the adult where she had said goodbye and abandoned her. Ripley had her own life to live and Rebecca did not have any part in it. The girl looked solemnly out and the window and sighed. _Well, Ripley – I do hope that you are happy wherever you are. You certainly can't have it any worse than I do._

* * *

Far, very far away from the runaway child – on another planet to be exact, Ellen Ripley was busy working. She was at the moment strapped into a power-loader, carrying a container in the pressure-claws of titanium alloy. The loader's ponderous feet boomed against the deck as she walked towards the loading-platform of the ship she was serving under. She expertly put the container down on the rectangular plate and backed away so that she would not risk getting entangled to it as it rose up lifting the load into the belly of the transporter above her. She was moving to get the next crate when a voice called to her.

"Hey, Ripley!" a burly and over-weight ship-skipper said in a loud voice. "Aren't you done yet? How many more do you got?"

She rolled her eyes. "Only two more to go, Mr. Cinch!" she replied, which was quite obvious. There was in fact only two containers left standing in their designated loading-area which any fool could see clearly.

"Well, hurry it up, Doll. We got a schedule to keep!" _Doll!_ In another time Ripley would have bitten the man's head of for referring to her person in such chauvinistic manner. But she wasn't in a position do to so. As she picked up the second last container with supplies and turned around to carry it over to the descending lift, she once again spotted the name of the ship written on the side, whose significance revolted her. _P.C. Cerberus_. The initials stood for 'Penal Cruiser', and on her overall there was a number written in stitches on the left side of her torso: _E. Ripley: #2179-12004_. That had been her identity the past year, a prisoner serving penal-duty aboard a cargo-vessel.

When the _Sulaco_ returned to Earth after the mission to LV-426, Ripley had been arrested immediately – she never knew what had happened to the other survivors. What she did know was that the Company was not willing to take the blame for what had happened to the colony on Acheron; so for the sake of the stock-holders and their own reputation, they needed to shift the responsibility on to somebody else – and Ripley was the perfect scapegoat. She was already deemed unstable after the incident with the _Nostromo_ ; therefore they had framed her for deliberately blowing up the expensive colony, causing the deaths of 158 people and a legion of marines. It was preposterous of course, but the Company had paid the lawyers to shift the outcome into their favor. No one had listened to Ripley - she was sentenced for life.

Her 'crime' was so great that the judge would've liked to put her away to the prison-facility on Fiorina 16, but since that was an all-male installation it was out of the question. They made use of her talents instead and put her on one of their penal cruisers that transported supplies and other goods around the galaxy between worlds which the Company controlled. Since she had a class-2 rating, she was assigned to handle the power-loaders for loading and unloading. The ship's captain and 'warden' Mr. Cinch was one who liked to let people know that he was in control, which was why he was jumping down Ripley's throat. In fact, they were still well within schedule of loading, but she couldn't point that out, no matter how much she wanted to. She needed to behave herself in order to reach the point where she could speak to her lawyer about re-opening her case which they only were willing to do if she acted like the role-modeling prisoner. She was _not_ going to rot away for a crime she didn't commit sitting down!

Ripley rode with the last container up into the ship on the lift – once aboard she put the crate into the designated bay and let her fellow ship-mates secure the cargo while she 'walked' over to the parking-space for the loader to power it down and connect the battery to the charger. She was responsible for maintaining the loader to keep in perfect operational standard – the look-through was always expected to take some time, but Ripley was already an expert on those routines, so she was done quickly. Looking around she found that the other workers was doing the last-minute checks on their lists – those were to be signed and copies left to the controllers of the dock. They wouldn't miss Ripley for at least five minutes. She wasn't planning on getting off the ship again – the electronic shackle on her ankle prevented her from doing so without authorization anyway. No, she wanted to make use of her spare time to spend a moment with her lucky charm.

Sitting down away from prying eyes, she fished out a little folded piece of paper from her breast-pocket. She had managed to keep hold of this against impossible odds ever since she had gotten arrested, hiding it from her guards. She folded the paper out and revealed it to be a torn photograph. Beneath the picture there were words printed:

FIRST-GRADE CITIZENSHIP AWARD: REBECCA JORDEN

It had just been an impulse to keep hold onto this picture after she had found it together with its owner within a pressure-bubble in the air-duct network that had served as a hide-out for the little girl that was on the photo, but now it was her most treasured item in her current incarceration. The one thing that gave her strength and determination to get out of there somehow – to go back to her! Ripley was not at all aware of the letter Rebecca had received ending their friendship – it had been a fake, she had not sent it and would never have! She was actually forbidden to have any contact to the world outside of her prison: no letters and no news-papers.

Ripley looked at the picture of the beautiful smiling child looking over her shoulder against the camera and the adult felt her eyes sting. She traced a finger along the curve of the young face on the photo, remembering how it had felt to touch the delicate skin on the real-life girl – a touch she longed to do again.

"They separated us, honey…" she whispered, not for the first time. She said this every time she looked at the photo. "They dared to split us apart. But I won't let them do this to us, baby… somehow I'm going to get out of here and then I'm going to find you. I swear to you, Newt, my sweet little child - someday we will be together again. I won't rest until then!"


	15. The new me

The two agents of Weyland-Yutani Company's special operations department had recently arrived to the company-building in San Francisco with the jet-drive helicopter they had requisitioned from the Washington office and they were now way ahead of the fugitives. Bolton and Humphrey wasted no time: they rallied both the security detachment belonging to the Company and San Francisco's police-force to set up a roadblock to intercept their targets. They've set up the perimeter on the Golden Gate Bridge. By keeping a watchful eye on the satellite-linked padd tracking the bugged phone, all indications told them that the fugitives had all intentions of crossing that bridge.

Although there were protests against it, half of the lanes on the bridge was closed off – the traffic was directed passed them through the other half. The agents would've liked to close the bridge entirely for all civilians, but that would be a giveaway to the old man who held the child captive – the plan was that they wanted them on the bridge to cut off their escape.

"Now remember;" Bolton instructed everybody in a loud authorizing voice. "The kidnapper is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous! He will not hesitate to open fire upon you! Our goal is therefore to incapacitate his vehicle to render it as inoperable as possible so that he can't escape! Once his car is disabled you are to move forward and take him into custody and don't be gentle about it! As for the girl, you are to make a grab for her as soon as the opportunity present itself and then you will immediately put her in a car to take her away to the safe-house where she will remain until we are ready to relocate her. She is probably in a state of shock so don't take notice of anything she says! The Company's doctor will take care of her."

"What if he uses her as a shield at gunpoint before we can reach her?" the captain of the police-force asked.

"Let us worry about that if the situation comes to it," Bolton told him. "Our troopers in the Company are specially trained to handle hostage-situations."

"So what do you need us for, other than traffic-control?" another police said a bit annoyed. There were several who was displeased with taking orders from a private corporation, even if it held a dominating power in the market that had made everybody and everything reliable on them.

Bolton held back his own annoyance for having his authority questioned. "Because this is your city," he said tactically. "The Company wouldn't dream of setting you aside for the chance of apprehending a stinking child abductor. Think of this as a temporary joining of forces for obtaining a mutual goal." Most of the police officers seemed to accept that. Bolton went back to the Company-van where his younger partner awaited.

"Nice speech," Humphrey said sarcastically.

"Shut your trap," Bolton growled. "Just tell me where the target is now."

"They'll be here any time soon," the young agent said, consulting his padd.

"I've managed to convince the police – have you informed our own agents what the _real_ plan is?"

"I've relayed the information through their ear-phones while you occupied the cops, "Humphrey said. "They know what needs to be done."

"Good!" Bolton said. "Then this little problem should soon be over once and for all!" What San Francisco's police-force did not know was that the Company's plan was not to secure the child. They were going to make sure that no one would get hold of her again for all eternity. That way she would never talk!

* * *

The Camaro was rapidly approaching the bridge. Any other driver would not see anything suspicious as the roadblock was not visible until at the other end of the bridge, but Pops were no ordinary driver. As a terminator, his long-range sensors had already detected the activity of the blockade and police-force that were waiting for them, just as he had anticipated them to do.

"We are expected, Rebecca Jorden." Pops said neutrally. "This will be the end of our journey."

The child was feeling a painful anxiety – she didn't look forward to the outcome of the drama that was about to unfold. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes. You don't need to feel concerned. Just do exactly as I tell you and everything will be all right."

The child took a few deep breaths to calm herself. They had been over it several times and she knew what she was required to do. "I suppose I'm ready then."

"Be prepared…"

* * *

You were required to pay toll to cross the Golden Gate Bridge. Usually this daily routine caused no problems although there were some occasional protests when the ones who wanted to get on it didn't have the exact change, especially when it came to tourists who had not expected to pay to get on the famous bridge. There were time to time when somebody would simply try to break through anyway without regard for how the community worked. As was the case with the old Camaro who without slowing down broke through the toll-booth and flew out on the lane at high speed.

* * *

"We have incoming!" Humphrey shouted so that most people could hear him. "He's on the bridge coming right at us at high speed!"

Several agents and police-officers put binoculars before their eyes to look further down the bridge. "There's a Camaro heading right towards us," an officer confirmed. "My God, I think he's clocking at least 88 miles an hour! He's _mad!_ He's going to _ram_ us!"

"Signal the booths at either end of the bridge to halt all traffic!" the captain of the force gave the order.

" _Everybody, prepare to fire!_ " Bolton shouted in turn.

" _Incapacitate that car!_ " the captain shouted.

"Incapacitate my ass!" Bolton spoke into a microphone connected to his ear-piece. "That car is to be blasted off the road!" He was speaking to all Company-employed agents stationed on the bridge. Bolton looked through the binoculars again as the car came closer. "That's the old guy, all right! And I can see _the_ _girl_ beside him! _Open fire immediately!_ "

All company-agents let loose all that they had against the approaching car. Even though there was still a distance to cross, the ballistic arsenal slammed into the body of the high-speed running vehicle and started to perforate it completely. Even the windshield was blasted to pieces.

" _Give him everything you got!_ " Bolton shouted to his men.

" _What are you doing?!_ " the police officers objected. " _You'll hit_ _the child!_ "

But now the driver of the approaching vehicle retaliated. He let loose several salvos of his own through the broken windshield with his own guns and forced several officers to scatter.

" _He's returning fire!_ "

"Thank you, you old fool." Bolton felt the triumph coming to him. By opening return fire, their adversary had now given them the solid excuse to make use of the bigger arsenal! He spoke into his radio: "Greer. Keller. You have a go!" Two company agents rose up from behind the blockade, armed with bazookas. The first one; Greer, released his heavy ordnance immediately. The rocket hit the Camaro dead center, blowing away big chunks of the car's housing and set the rest of it ablaze. But it kept coming like a burning meteor against them – everybody could clearly by now see the fire engulfing the passengers within the vehicle.

" _Keep firing!_ " Bolton shouted to his men and the company-people complied. " _Keller! Whenever you're ready!_ " The second bazooka fired its round. The car was hit on the side and was set into an uncontrollable spin. The burning wreck flew up on the sidewalk and crashed through the railing right beneath the giant suspension cable. The fireball that had once been a veteran car broke free of the metal that was the Golden Gate Bridge and it tumbled in a free fall down towards the water beneath. The remains of the car splashed through the surface and disappeared down into the murky depths, with passengers and all. The police was looking helplessly after the sinking metal carcass, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

"You _murderers!_ " some began to accuse the company agents. "You practically _executed_ them! You never gave them the _chance_ to surrender!"

"You _saw_ it!" Humphrey interjected. "The old man never had any _intention_ of surrendering! You saw how he came at us at high speed with weapons shooting! He practically _begged_ to be blasted upon!"

"But the _hostage…!_ The _kid!_ "

"Probably already dead!" was the agent's short answer.

"You don't _know_ that!" the captain of the police-force raged. "You opened fire without first evaluating the full situation! For all we know it was _your_ action that has now killed that girl! And you can be sure it is that which I will put down in my report. _You're_ the ones who will take full responsibility for _this!_ "

"You can have it your way, captain." Bolton said calmly. The agents were not at all concerned for that – the Company had been through several of those roads before. But like always; specifically paid lawyers and witnesses along with a slight modification on how the course of events played out would in the end free them with none the wiser. The brat had been an orphan; there was no relative alive that would press charges for the 'failed' rescuing that led to her death. In the end; all that would happen was that the people would express their sorrow for the tragic death of a child in a kidnapping situation that ended badly, but then they would forget all about it and the Company would escape unscathed yet again! Bolton and Humphrey did a high-five when the police-officers no longer watched them. Their mission was accomplished – that brat would never breath another word again and the lid they've put on the LV-426-fiasco was secured once more. Even more so now as one of the survivors were permanently out of the picture.

* * *

It was close to three hours later when something emerged from the water that ran under the Golden Gate Bridge on the north side – a full-grown man in his sixties was wading up towards the shore, totally unconcerned of his wet predicament. Had someone witnessed him walking up, they would wonder how an ordinary man dressed in a leather outfit could have stayed underwater for so long without any breathing apparatus or diving-equipment whatsoever. In the distance behind him, police-boats was dragging the bottom under the bridge, looking for the wreck and the bodies of those who had perished. They would perhaps locate the wreck, but there would be nothing else to find. Without looking back, the man walked away in a preset destination, strangely looking already dry despite the fact that he had recently been under water.

After a short walk along the shore of the Golden Gate he arrived at a lighthouse that was positioned near the bridge. He saw a figure sitting by the door to the lighthouse-tower, right where he had expected to find the person. He walked up to the structure.

"It's done," he said. "Rebecca Jorden is dead."

There was a cold shiver running along the others' spine as the words were spoken. It sounded so bizarre to hear him speak of a demise that had not actually taken place.

"Yet I am still here," the girl said. Despite appearances, the child had no longer been in the car before the Terminator broke through the toll-booth and made his 'suicide-run' on the bridge. Pops had dropped her off in a secluded curve on the road before the Camaro had reached the toll-booths. By his instructions, the girl had made herself down the cliff and was to wait at the lighthouse so that the cyborg would find her there. Once the girl had been clear, Pops had used his mimetic poly-alloy that surrounded the lower part of his body to make a hollow three-dimensional replica of the torso of the child on the passenger-seat. That hadn't been so hard since he had sampled her genetic structure earlier by physical contact – the problem had been that the fake figure had been lifeless and immobile. But such abilities had not been necessary. To any outsider it had looked like there were two persons in the car, and those two had been blown of the bridge in their car and fallen to their deaths in the Pacific Ocean. No bodies would ever be recovered – the most probable answer would be that they were partly incinerated by the fire and the rest had been carried off by the streaming water. The result would be in the end the same; they were declared dead.

"But for a while I was afraid that you hadn't made it," the girl now said.

"As a terminator I can take a lot of excessive force upon my hyper-alloy combat chassis. The poly-alloy gave me some extra protection as well. The agents did not know this of course." He fished something out of his pocket. "I managed to save this somewhat. It got a little singed, but it should still be usable." He held out her cell-phone. "Don't worry. I have deactivated the locator-chip again."

Reluctantly, she took it and looked at it with a strange expression. "So… what now?" she asked. "What will happen from here-on?"

"We will now head to my bunker," Pops said. "It's located on this side, so we won't have to cross the bridge. You will have to hide there for around a year in order for the public to forget about you. I expect that the media to report the conditions of your demise for a little while, but then the memory of you will fall into oblivion. People forget quite quickly. In a year they won't even remember your face as they will no longer be looking for you."

"Not even the terminators?" the girl asked.

"If we are lucky, even they will be fooled. Your death is now your greatest disguise, which means that from now on you need a new name."

"A new name?"

"You can no longer be Rebecca Jorden as she is declared dead. But you are still the last Connor. You can reclaim the name and be known as Connor. I will let you pick a first name that you feel will suit you."

The girl felt a moment of excitement – there was only one name that suited her: a name that had been denied her ever since she had arrived to Earth a year ago and one that no one else knew that she had once been called. A name that was truly hers.

"Newt!" she said as she stood up. "That was my name in my colony! Everybody called me that – well, except for my brother. No one did that here! No one here on Earth knows me by that name!"

"Then henceforth you shall be known as Newt Connor," Pops declared.

The girl looked at the phone in her hand again. "So if Rebecca Jorden is dead… then everything that once belonged to her should die _with_ her!" To hell with the notes within it - those had given her nothing but pain anyway! She threw the phone on the ground – it cracked, but did not shatter. She raised her foot and slammed her sole down on it, but it still held somewhat together. She looked over at Pops. "Say… could you…?" she indicated to the device on the ground. Pops raised his own foot and slammed it down on the phone. It shattered in thousands of tiny little pieces. The girl actually felt a moment of satisfaction - it was like she had stricken a blow against the company itself.

Then the two walked away, leaving both the bridge and the last remains of a little girl that had once been known as Rebecca Jorden behind them. It was a little girl named Newt who would face the coming future now and forever.


	16. New revelations

The 'X'-terminator sat in the garage of a secluded house in Salem. Had the cyborgs had any concept of luck, it would have considered itself fortunate that it found a house whose owner was an amateur mechanic as he obviously had been a big fan of motorcycles. Three of those stood parked in there, all in tip-top shape. The workshop in the garage was filled with many tools of every kind for proper maintenance – tools the 'X'-terminator required to repair itself. Although it may have not looked like it, the machine had suffered considerable damage when battling the rogue unit, so it needed to restore several systems before it was in shape to take up the search of the targets once again. Although the tools were primitive in comparison to those it was used to in the future, they were adequate for the task. The owner would never miss them as he lay dead in the cellar with a hole in his head.

Right now it was welding a crack in its arm it had sustained when the police truck it had captured had crashed. There was an unexpected signal coming from the other units connecting to its internal receiver – that didn't require it to stop its work; it was fully capable of multi-tasking while it registered the message.

Terminator 3: MISSION STATUS UPDATE: HUMAN NEWS-FEED REPORT THAT SUBJECT REBECCA JORDEN IS TERMINATED! The 'X'-terminator did not pause for this new update – it was not programmed to feel some sort of reaction to this development.

Terminator 1: IS TERMINATION OF REBECCA JORDEN CONFIRMED?

Terminator 3: NEGATIVE! BODY HAS NOT BEEN ACQUIRED!

Terminator 1: WHAT IS THE PROBABILITY-FACTOR THAT REBECCA JORDEN IS TERMINATED?

Terminator 3: PROBABILITY-FACTOR FOR POSSIBLE TERMINATION IS APPROXIMATELY 89 PERCENT!

'X'-terminator (#2): PROBABILITY-FACTOR IS NOT WITHIN ESTABLISHED PARAMETERS! ROGUE UNIT IS ASSISTING SUBJECT REBECCA JORDEN! THERE IS A POSSIBILITY THAT IT HAS FAKED SUBJECT REBECCA JORDEN'S TERMINATION!

Terminator 3: NEW PROBABILITY-FACTOR FOR POSSIBLE TERMINATION IS APPROXIMATELY 43 PERCENT! POSSIBLY LESS!

Terminator 1: ROGUE UNIT'S INVOLVEMENT HAS CHANGED MISSION PARAMETERS! NEW PLAN IS NEEDED! BEST PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS IS TO LOCATE ROGUE UNIT IN ORDER TO LOCATE SUBJECT REBECCA JORDEN!

Terminator 3: SUGGEST TRANSMITTING A TRIANGULAR SIGNAL TO PINPOINT ROGUE UNIT'S LOCATION!

'X'-terminator: NEGATIVE! ROGUE UNIT WILL EXPECT THAT! BEST COURSE OF ACTION IS TO DOWN-PRIORITIZE LOCATING REBECCA JORDEN AND ALLOW ROGUE UNIT TO LET DOWN ITS GUARD! TRIANGULATION SHOULD COMMENCE LATER!

Terminator 3: UNIT ONE IS ON ITS WAY TO TERMINATE SUBJECT 2 OF 3! UNIT TWO WILL PROCEED TO LOCATE AND TERMINATE SUBJECT 3 OF 3 ONCE IT IS FINISHED WITH REPAIRS!

'X'-terminator: AFFIRMATIVE!

Terminator 1: UNIT THREE WILL REMAIN AT ITS POSITION TO CONTINUE ITS OWN MISSION!

Terminator 3: AFFIRMATIVE!

The conversation ended.

* * *

In Newt's eyes, the future didn't at first look too bright. The hike up to Pops' bunker had been time-consuming and tiresome and when she finally saw the place she felt ready to turn her heel and leave. She was used to live in a maze of steel and glass-panes as she had done in her colony, but this was a hole in the mountain of rock and concrete. It kind of chilled her bones – to her it was like she was about to be forced to live in a cave. It wasn't long though until she realized that she was being silly; the surrounding may be of another structural environment, but it wasn't _that_ much different to how she had lived before. And if her ancestor Sarah Connor could grow up in this, then Newt certainly could too. The bunker was filled with all kinds of hardware that made the girl think that the cyborg had prepared for some kind of a war: there were crates with weapons and explosives along with a few other vehicles and piles of mechanical stuff she couldn't identify.

Pops had not at all been prepared to take in a new resident when he'd left the bunker a couple of days before – there was no food or any other goods of daily convenience available for the young girl. The cyborg had no choice but to go out on a shopping trip. Fortunately he had some money stashed away of his salary from the time he was employed at Cyberdyne, so financing her needs was not going to be a problem. To Newt's astonishment it even turned out that Pops had saved some of Sarah Connor's outgrown children clothes. The terminator had rescued her in 1973 when she was nine, so those clothes were over 200 years old, but amazingly in good condition since they had been packed and sealed in airtight plastic bags. Newt was only seven however and quite small-grown for her age, so those clothes were still going to be too big for her. Luckily she found some which she could adapt.

While Pops went out to town to do some shopping in a jeep that had stood parked there, Newt took her time to take a shower and change her outfit. The red gym suit she had worn up until now was to be thrown away – her recent running for her life these past days had without her thinking about it ruined it completely, it was only dirty and torn rags now. She had found a pair of blue-colored bib and brace overalls among Sarah's old clothes, not unlike the ones she had worn on Acheron which she put over the smallest white blouse she could find. The braces on the overall were adjustable, so she shortened them as much as she could and then folded up the hems at her ankles. There was no full-length mirror available, but Newt knew that she passed fine for a regular dressed kid.

Pops was not back yet when Newt came out of the bathroom, so she did a little exploring. The clothes weren't the only thing after Sarah Connor her protector had saved. On the wall over a workbench there were old children drawings pinned up – it looked mostly to be drawings of a girl with her guardian standing on a beach with a burning house behind them. Newt found it strange that Pops had left those drawings hanging there. Had he not found an opportunity to take them down… or had he left them there for _nostalgic_ reasons? But Pops was a machine; surely he couldn't have those kinds of feelings? Maybe it was something she could ask him when he got back.

On the workbench there was an odd device – it was obviously a music-box as there were some earphones that lay beside it, but that big? And it did not appear to have any slot for a compact-disc, so how were you supposed to play it? She located the eject-button and a compartment opened up. Inside there was a strange small plastic shell with two wheels inside which apparently pulled a brown strip between them. There was a text on it: "The Ramones" – side 1. So the music was stored in this funny thing. To Newt it was weird as she had never seen such old-fashioned devices before. She was used to small CD's and DVD's on Acheron, but here in the year 2180 even those were in the process of being phased out. Today you stored everything in small 'plug in'-sticks so that you could carry your library of music and films with you everywhere.

Sarah Connor had obviously been a music-lover. In a drawer she found more of those weird shells, sealed in small plastic containers with pictures of different people on them. She had never heard of any of the artists displayed on them before, but she couldn't help to wonder what kind of musicians they had been. _Bee-Gee's, Guns 'n Roses_ and _Michael Jackson_ among others – and what kind of an artist was this? _Alice Cooper._ He looked evil with those dark shaded eyes. Newt put the cassettes back down and closed the drawer – she doubted she would ever appreciate that kind of music.

The sound of a car-engine told her that Pops were back. As soon as she had made sure that it really was him and not some strolling Company agent, she went out to greet him.

"You look freshened up," he said when he saw her. "That is good." He had several shopping-bags in the jeep – he took them all in his arms.

"Do you… need a hand with those?" she asked needlessly.

"No," he said shortly and simply as he carried the bags away towards the kitchen. Once there he put them on the table and packed the contents up. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I acquired a little of everything."

"A _little?_ " she questioned. It was in fact quite a lot. Five loaves of bread, vegetables, big packs of meatballs, hot dogs, hamburgers, frozen pizzas, milk, orange juice, soda, fruits of all sorts and an amount of canned food also of all sorts. There were even several candy-bars and ice-cream in the pile. "You know, most of this will have gone bad before I'm even half-way through it all," she said as she helped herself with a chocolate-bar. It was a long time ago she had eaten chocolate.

"Most of it can be frozen for later consuming," was Pops' answer as if he had planned this ahead. Newt only shrugged as she ate the chocolate – better to leave all of the practical stuff to him. "You forgot to buy soap," she pointed out as she eyed through the rest of the contents.

"I'll acquire that next time," was Pops' dismissive reply while he continued to organize the food-packets.

Newt decided to change the subject. "Can I ask you something? Did you love Sarah?"

Pops looked at her with a bewildered expression – as bewildered he could be as he was a machine. He obviously found it strange that she asked him that question. "I have no files that cover the concept of love."

"But you did care about her, didn't you?" she persisted.

"I was programmed to protect her and her offspring," Pops said. "Why do you ask me this, Newt Connor?"

"I guess what I really want to know is: why did you leave her?"

"What?"

"I'm not dumb, you know - you don't fool me with that cold machine-like behavior! You cared _a lot_ for her since you kept all her drawings back there. And if you can feel like that for someone, then why would you leave her? Why not stay and keep protecting her family? It's not like you can exactly die of old age, right?"

Pops looked at her for a long time and Newt was beginning to think that she might've stuck her nose too far into his business. But then he finally gave her an answer. "But I can, Newt Connor. I had no choice but to leave Sarah Connor."

"Why?" she asked perplexed.

"I'm a terminator from a deleted timeline. It was Skynet who created the terminators, but we stopped it and prevented the war. Terminators never came to be up until now, which means that _spare-parts_ never was created either."

Newt was confused. "But you seem to manage without…? You with that liquid metal and all…?"

"But not without _power-cells!_ " Pops had now dropped the 'bomb'. "I'm the only one of my kind – and so is my power-cell! Regularly it only lasts for approximately 120 years and cannot be recharged. I rescued Sarah in 1973 and stayed with her in active mode until 2033. It may only sound like a half-time drain, but repeated action combined with run-down systems and the fact that my being upgraded with the poly-alloy actually required more use of power. When I left her my power-cell was drained down to 23 percent. We agreed that I was to return here and shut all of my systems down to conserve what I had left until there was a time when I needed to return and protect a later generation.

"The actions I've been through these past days have taken its toll. I estimate no more than a year – then I will cease to function when the cell is fully drained. I am old, Newt Connor – and soon obsolete. Until then I need to teach you to survive as I won't be able to help you anymore."

Newt stood frozen as she came to realize what Pops was saying. In about a year's time, she would be _alone_ again! That knowledge drained her of all hope she had felt for the future and it has never been that high ever since the disaster of her colony. She put down her half-eaten chocolate-bar on the table, her appetite completely gone and silently walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

In Salem the 'X'-terminator was finished with its repairs. Now it dressed itself up in a new manner with clothes it had found in the late owner's house. The dead man in the cellar had obviously served in the military as there were some camouflage clothes in the wardrobe – either that or he was some kind of hunter. But whatever he had been, it was irrelevant to the 'X'-terminator. It was a new set of cover and that was all it mattered to the machine. To hide its metallic skull it put on a crash-helmet to complete its disguise – as long as nobody looked too closely, no one would suspect that it wasn't a human. Packing its weapons to the largest motorcycle in the garage, it set out back out to the soil of USA to resume its mission. First it would locate the second target on its hit-list and terminate that individual before it would once again track down Rebecca Jorden and her protector the rogue unit – and this time it wouldn't stop until the two were exterminated.

* * *

Three days later in Pops' bunker the situation was really beginning to take its toll on the young girl. Neither was in any way causing the other trouble, but being locked up in the bunker was tearing to the child's nerves. She was bored to death, but the idea to try to preoccupy herself with the lessons Pops wanted her to undertake was something she couldn't bring herself to do, not after the revelation that she was destined to be alone again within a year's time. It had made her so depressed that she had fallen into a state of silence and unresponsive. She mostly spent her time sitting quietly in a corner and sulked while staying out of the cyborg's way. Pops didn't press her – he knew enough of human psychology to know that the child simply needed some time to herself while she adapted to the new situation. Sarah Connor had been the same at first when he'd taken her in.

This afternoon however they both sat in front of a TV on the couches – right now there were some news running and the headlines concerned them.

"… _the police have given up all hope of finding the body of the kidnapped girl Rebecca Jorden along with her captor. While they've salvaged the wreck of the car from the bottom under the Golden Gate Bridge, there is no doubt that the remains has been swept away by underwater currents. Meanwhile the case of the mistaken identity which cost the industrialist's daughter Bianca Horsepower's life continues to take different turns. Some witnesses claim that the late Rebecca Jorden actually knew that there was a murderer after her and she_ _ **deliberately**_ _gave her phone to Bianca Horsepower to throw the assassin off. Bianca's classmates all says that the industrialist's daughter was the role-model student, always on top of her class and that has driven Young Jorden mad with jealousy. She therefore had the idea to give her phone to her rival to get rid of her."_

Newt sat completely still on her couch as she listened to the news – although she seemed unconcerned, Pops could detect her blood-pressure elevate and a vessel in her temple was bulging. She was clearly affected by the slander, but she was an expert in not showing it.

Now the reporters interviewed a boy from her school – the same boy who had participated in the last attack against her that morning Bianca was shot and was afraid to be seen with her afterwards. Since they all thought that Pops had been the assassin and believed to be dead, they thought they were safe now to give an interview.

" _Bianca was the brightest in our class and Rebecca couldn't handle it,"_ the boy said. _"All right, so she had some problems her being a victim from a colony that had been destroyed in a disaster - we all tried to help her through it, but she wouldn't accept our help."_

 _What a barefaced lie,_ Newt thought. They hadn't cared _at all_ what she had been through! She had been deemed as the outsider from the very start with no regard to what had happened.

" _She was jealous,"_ the boy continued. " _She wanted what Bianca had and that's why she never wanted to be friends with her even though Bianca had been so kind to offer her friendship."_

Newt was now so angry and hurt that she shook all over; she even felt her eyes tearing up. Bianca had _never_ been kind – least of all to _her!_ She had in fact been one of the most evil, arrogant and selfish bitches Newt ever have had the misfortune to encounter! And she hadn't been the top-student either – it was quite the opposite! But they shifted all the blame onto Newt to make Bianca look like the innocent one while making the _true_ victim to be some kind of heartless monster. It was like what the principal Mrs. Hannigan had said: _This is the capitalists' domain. They're the ones writing the rules, directing the society to move in their favor_. Newt had never wanted to be one who would hate people, but she really _hated_ those arrogant capitalists right now.

"Don't let them get to you," Pops said from his seat.

 _That's easy for you to say,_ Newt thought, but didn't speak it out loudly. _You were not the one who was bullied at school!_

"Remember that they speak in the manner they were _raised_ into," Pops continued, trying to play the act of being a reasonable adult. "If anything, it is their parents who are to blame as they raise their children to be…" Pops suddenly stopped talking. Instead he jerked his head towards an invisible spot in the air as if he spotted something weird which Newt couldn't see.

Pops stood up abruptly, Newt watched him curiously. "My sensors just detected a boosted satellite-signal being sent into this area," Pops said seriously. "There's no reason for anyone doing that unless he wanted to penetrate these shielded walls! Someone is trying to _locate_ us!"

Pops started to walk off into the direction of his weapons depot. "It doesn't have to mean anything, but if someone _is_ trying to find us, then I will prepare a suitable welcome for him!"

* * *

Several hours later it had become late at night, and Newt couldn't sleep. The overhanging danger of their hideout having been compromised kept her awake. The nervousness of having the Weyland-Yutani agents- or worse, a killer-robot on their doorstep was most unsettling. Pops had since he'd detected the signal loaded several of his rifles; preparing them for immediate use should the worst-case scenario be that it was in fact the terminators who had found them. The bunker was darkened, but Newt knew that Pops was sitting just a few meters away from her bed, keeping guard. Her own senses were heightened ever since LV-426, so she _felt_ , rather than saw Pops rising up from his chair.

"We have a visitor," Pops told her in the darkness. "Someone triggered the motion-detectors outside the entrance."Pops had a constant up-link to the bunker's computers and systems, so he instantly knew everything the computers knew. "Stay here, Newt Connor. I will deal with this." And then he was gone. Newt was however to worked up to remain alone in the chamber. She didn't like not knowing what was happening, and if some shooting would start, how was she to know who was emerging victorious if she stayed put? Newt knew she was being disobedient, and she did not at all wanted to be in the middle of the action – but she could never handle the tension of not knowing! So she got out of bed, dressed quickly and carefully sneaked out into the main chamber of the bunker.

She found Pops hiding behind a supporting pillar with a rifle in his hands, watching towards the parked vehicles. He spotted Newt as she soundlessly came up beside him to hide behind some crates – he said nothing as it would give away sounds. Newt looked carefully out between two crates which stood close together and then she saw what Pops was directing his gaze to – a lone figure with a rifle of his own had made his way into the bunker, passed the locked doors. Newt couldn't see clearly, but her eyes had adjusted themselves to the darkness enough for her to make out that the intruder was clad in a camouflage suit and a helmet. But it was the glowing dots in the face-area that frightened her – it had to be one of the terminators! It had found them! So why wasn't Pops firing at him?

The intruder was behaving strangely! He moved slowly, almost cautiously as if he was surveying the area. The glowing dots on his head repeatedly flew left to right, up and down – and all the time he kept his rifle ahead of him as if he too was expecting danger. Was this the typical behavior for terminators? Newt wasn't sure and she couldn't ask Pops at the moment. She looked over at her guardian and saw that Pops was about to zero in on the intruder with his weapon. Meanwhile the lone figure had spotted a door on the other wall which he walked towards to investigate. He opened it and looked inside, but saw nothing out of the ordinary within that room. He walked out in the open again and his posture sloughed, as if he was giving up on something. Newt now knew that this was not a terminator – whoever he was, he was human. Pops must know this too, but he was prepared to fire at him anyway. And then the lone figure shouted something the child had never expected to hear.

" _NEWT?_ _Are you here?_ "

Pops squeezed the trigger of his rifle – just then the child jumped at him and pushed the weapon to the side! " _Wait!_ " she cried as the shot went off and the projectile went way of track. The intruder jumped as well and spun around to their direction while raising his own gun, but holding his fire.

Pops was clearly annoyed. "Why did you stop me?" he asked the girl.

"He knows my name!" the child said, breaking her state of silence. "How could he know that?" More curious than afraid, she stepped out from behind the cover. Newt was opening herself to danger, but contradictory what you would have expected Pops to do, he did _not_ attempt to pull her back to safety. Instead he used his link with the bunker to remotely switch on all the lights in the roof, illuminating the entire chamber. Newt saw now that the shining dots on the intruder's face was not terminator eyes at all, but the glowing lenses of a pair of night-vision goggles. Pops had already from the start seen that the intruder was equipped with those, which was why he switched on the lights. Night-vision worked in darkness, but not in bright light. The intruding man was blinded when the lamps came on. He grunted in surprise and quickly removed the goggles – and at the same time his helmet also came off. His face was now visible.

Newt had experienced several shocks in her short lifetime, some of them had been worse than the other. But she could not remember a shock that had been of a _positive_ nature. She recognized the man, despite the hideous scar in his face – and she rushed forward to him, unable to stop herself. But she knew that this man would never harm her - in fact, he had once before come to her aid.

"HICKS!" She threw herself into his embrace and the corporal responded with folding his arms around her, squeezing her tightly to him.

"Newt! Thank heavens, kid!" he said to the girl while he hugged her. "I was beginning to think that I wouldn't find you!"

Newt disconnected herself from his embrace and leaned back an arms' length – her hands were still on his shoulders though. "But how _did_ you find me?" she asked. "And furthermore; where have you _been?_ I haven't heard a _thing_ from you since we got to Earth!"

"I'll be happy to tell you everything, kiddo – but first: who is this man?" Hicks indicated to Pops who was now approaching them. "And what's he got to do with you?"

"He's… not exactly a man."

"What do you mean by that?" the soldier asked perplexed. Pops however had a question of his own as he studied the newcomer with a curious expression. And he spoke:

"Kyle Reese! What are you doing here?"

* * *

Author's notes: Next chapter will unfortunately take a while for several different reasons. I will be busy with many things that takes priority, but I will attempt to get back on track as soon as I am able.


	17. Lifedebt

Author's notes: Well, it has been a while, but I finally found the time to put the next chapter together. We will follow Hicks' POV for this chapter and the next as we will see him track down the fugitives before we resume our regular story.

My story has reached over a thousand hits now - it's fun to see that it has managed to capture the interest of so many people. Hope you continue to enjoy this.

Let's get on with it, shall we?

* * *

 _A year earlier…_

"Hicks, don't let him leave!"

"We ain't going anywhere," the corporal answered the woman weakly as he was dulled by all the medications he'd been forced to take to reduce the pain to tolerable levels.

The woman opened the loading ramp and was about to head out, armed with the heavy hybrid weapon she had just fashioned together, heading out into mortal danger. The place she was heading was madness to enter but she had no choice. Hicks knew this. There was still a chance…

The woman halted momentarily and turned back to face him. "See you, Hicks," she said.

"Dwayne," he said as he held a wad of medicinal gauze against his face that had been burned earlier by the fumes from highly corrosive acid. "That's Dwayne." Somehow he felt that it was important for her to know this, and she seemed to appreciate it.

"Ellen," she gave back, telling him her name.

"Don't be long, Ellen." The woman Ellen Ripley nodded, and then she went out of the dropship, back into the complex of the Atmosphere Processing Station that was in an imminent state of destruction. But that wasn't the only danger: because within the sublevels where she was headed there was the hive of the most ferocious lifeform he had ever encountered – ugly, relentless and very deadly! His entire team had died in the attempt to fight them. Going in amongst those creatures spelled certain doom, but Ripley had a reason for going there – a reason which made her overcome her own fear for the monsters whom had hunted her for the past years. Because down in the complex there was a little girl; the only survivor of the colony which the monsters had destroyed. She had just been taken and had without a doubt been brought into the hive below them and Ripley would absolutely not leave the planet until she had liberated the child one way or another.

Hicks had not been blind to the connection that had been formed between the woman and the little girl – he could understand it. In the marines you sometimes formed a bond between comrade in arms which made you risk your life for the other whenever danger presented itself – Ripley and the child Newt shared not only a survival experience from the monsters, but they both had gone through recent personal family-losses so it was only natural that they would turn to each other. Secretly he envied the two for the connection they had made: Ripley was a brave woman, easy to like and so was the child. If it hadn't been for his injuries, Hicks would've gone down after the kid himself. But because of the acidic blood of the creatures he had gotten wounded and was not in shape to fight. His predicament pained him, not only physically but mentally as well. He felt like he abandoned them both.

The dropship heaved slightly and there was a loud squeaky sound heard. The landing platform was dangerously weakened from the tremors of the malfunctioning Atmosphere Processing station. It made Hicks impatient and even more worried. "How much time 'til it goes?" he asked the only remaining occupant of the ship besides himself. The android Bishop stood to the side looking impassive despite that he was perfectly aware of the upcoming explosion threatening to engulf them all.

"Thirteen minutes," he said calmly. "But I may have to take off before that. I fear it won't be long before the platform gives away underneath us. It feels critically unstable."

Hicks hardly listened to what the synthetic was saying. Despite his weakened reflexes, he got up on his feet.

"What are you doing?" Bishop asked him.

"I'm going after her," he said as he stumbled towards the weapons locker.

"You're in no shape to do so."

Hicks was only listening with half an ear. "I shouldn't have let her go alone. I can still…"

"No, Corporal, you can't!" Bishop forced him back down. "All the drugs administrated into your system has severely degraded your motor responses. You would stand no chance down there!"

"But if she doesn't make it back…" Hicks sputtered.

"She'll have a better chance getting out if she doesn't have to drag you out of there as well," Bishop tried to reason with him.

"I can make it…" Hicks insisted as he stood up again.

"You are letting your emotions cloud your judgement," the android said as he once again pushed the soldier back down into his seat.

"Get off me, Bishop," he growled, feeling quite annoyed with the synthetic. "I'm going after her, whether you like it or not!"

"It seems that I can't reason with you," Bishop said and picked something up from the medical box which still lay on the seat beside him. "That only leaves me to take more drastic measures." He held a syringe in his hand.

"Don't you dare!" Hicks warned the other.

"It's better this way – for all of us," Bishop said as he injected the heavy sedative.

"Damn you, Bishop," Hicks cursed as sleep overtook him. He knew no more after that.

* * *

When Hicks finally came to, he found himself in a totally different environment. He was no longer in the metallic confinement of the dropship, but neither did he seem to be onboard the _Sulaco._ This was a hospital ward in a typical building on some planet. He had no idea how he had got there or how long he had been out. Since he was alone in the room and eager for answers, he pressed the call-button on the side of the bed to alert a nurse. It took a few minutes before one came in.

"Well, this is a surprise," the female nurse said with a pleasant smile. "We didn't expect you to be awake for days, soldier-boy."

"How long was I out?" Hicks started to ask. His throat felt extremely raw and coarse, making it difficult to speak. "What happened? How did I get here, wherever here is?"

"Ease up with the questions, soldier," the nurse said with a fake sternness. "This is a military ward on Earth, and that is all I can tell you. Anything that concerns your missions is not for me to know. I'm only to treat your injuries and that's it."

"Then I'd like to speak to somebody in charge!"

"That can be arranged. They are eager to speak with you as well, although I personally feel that it is way too early for you to have visitors." The nurse left to call for a military officer – fifteen minutes later one came in; a powerful built and sturdy man - a colonel, judging from the insignias decorating his uniform.

"I'm pleased to see that you didn't disappoint us by not waking up, Corporal," the officer greeted him in a most typical military manner. "I'm Colonel Chalk and I want to hear from you word for word what the hell _happened_ out there!"

"I'd like to know some answers to, Sir," Hicks began. "What happened to Ripley? Did she…?"

" _That's not how it works, Corporal!_ " the colonel cut him off with a genuine sternness. "It is _you_ who are reporting to _me,_ not the other way around! I'll let the insubordination slide this time, but don't push your luck again! Now, tell me the story!"

Hicks fought back his own irritation and gave the officer his report as literal as possible: He told the other how his team had been totally unprepared for the lifeform that awaited them on LV-426 which had wiped out the entire civilization of the Hadley's Hope-colony and how Sgt. Apone and the rest of his team had fallen victim to the same organism. He didn't leave out the company agent's Carter Burke's treachery – but the colonel didn't seem to care much about it. How the shooting in the dungeons had raptured the cooling-systems of the Atmosphere Processing station causing it to overload and threaten to explode. He ended with how the sole survivor of the colony had been captured and their civilian advisor had gone down to retrieve her.

"…she went down, but I have no idea what happened to her or the little girl. I was prepared to go after her, but Bishop wouldn't let me. He knocked me out with another shot of sedative – and I'm sorry, Sir: that is the last thing I remember! I have no recollection whatsoever how we got away from there or how I ended up here. I was out cold."

"I see," Colonel Chalk said stiffly. "Well, the rest of the story isn't so interesting anyway. The important bits have been corresponded with the report the synthetic gave us, which gives us the actual facts of what happened." The colonel got up from the chair he had been sitting in and prepared to leave. "We will review your report and once you are out of bed we will look into a transfer for you to a new posting. Good day, Corporal."

"Sir, _wait!_ " Hicks called out. "Please, Sir, I really need to know: what happened to Ripley? Did she make it out?"

The officer looked over at the soldier, contemplating the request. Finally, he said: "No. She didn't." Hicks' heart sank to the bottom of his gut. "The android waited for as long as he could, but the woman never returned. He had no choice but to clear the area and return to the ship before the station blew. Both she and the child perished for certain in the blast if they weren't killed before that. We'll never know. And Corporal: never mention this again to anyone! All of this will go into the classified files! The world is never to hear what happened on the planet. Never ever!"

Hicks fell into a state of depression after that. Of all of his missions, this was his one biggest failure and the one he would regret the most. But Hicks found someone to blame for the fiasco: Bishop! If the android hadn't stopped him, Hicks was certain that the outcome would've been different! It was _his_ fault that Ripley and Newt were dead! He even suspected that the android might have escaped the station even before the time was up, leaving them behind! But he couldn't question Bishop about it to find out: Hicks never saw him again.

Since then, Hicks had created a big dislike for synthetics – he swore that he would never work with one again! When he was finally released from the hospital he acquired a device to wear on his wrist – a detector for the special EM-field that all cybernetic organisms emitted; a droid-detector if you will, to make sure that no android would hide in his presence and interfere with his decisions again. During the year that went by he went through several therapy-sessions to forget what had happened, something that was hard to do since he was reminded of it every time he looked in a mirror and got a visual of the scar which spoiled the look on the left side of his face. The 'gift' the last alien he'd killed had given him. A plastic surgery could perhaps remove it, but Hicks decided to leave it there – it would forever be his self-inflicted punishment for failing the two civilians he had been sent out to protect.

Being posted to the security-detail at Area 51 in Nevada wasn't as glorious as one might think – it was actually quiet and uneventful. You never saw much of the secrets conducted and investigated in the laboratories - questions were never asked and information was never divulged. It was simply none of your concern! Hicks didn't mind though – peace and quiet was a welcoming change from the action in space. And making new friends after the loss of his team was a bonus. The veteran Carl Norrington was a good man and patient, despite the fact that Hicks wasn't the best of company with his grumbling issues. Hicks couldn't understand how or why Norrington put up with him, but he did. The poker-games were the best – it was a time of companionship and relaxation. Hicks had finally started to lay the past behind him and was beginning to believe he could make peace with himself. The deaths of his old team and the civilians was not his fault – in time maybe he could shed himself of his guilt and forget what had happened – and then he saw the news of a missing girl!

Hicks couldn't believe his eyes! The name matched, the age was correct and her appearance was just like how he remembered her, only a bit less fragile-looking. He'd know that lovely little face anywhere! _Newt!_ She was _alive?!_ But how was that _possible?!_ There was absolutely no way she could be here on Earth… unless he had been _lied_ to! Hicks' mind was spinning. If Newt had got out of the complex alive and travelled here, then chances were that Ripley had made it out too! Then why hadn't she tried to make contact with him? But then he remembered Colonel Chalk's words: the mission of LV-426 had been classified – and from the looks of it, it had been so highly classified that the top brass wanted to make sure that no one got together to speak about it. It made sense: the best way to put a lid on was to isolate every single surviving individual apart from each other to keep them quiet! It was not the first time Hicks had come across such a situation, but he'd never thought he himself would be subjected to such a program! The thought of it angered him greatly. Unfortunately, it had worked – and it would still be working if something obviously hadn't gone wrong. Newt was missing, presumed kidnapped and in danger of being assassinated and the reporters was more than willing to spread the news to the public. This lead to two absolute facts. _One:_ Newt had run into some kind of trouble that had not been anticipated which left her all alone out there with no one to turn to. _Two:_ the isolation program had been compromised. That meant that the responsible for initiating it would be forced to take desperate measures to plug the hole again, and that could leave the survivors in an even worse situation than which they were in now. Even _he_ was in danger, Hicks was certain of that! He was never meant to learn of Newt. That meant that Hicks had no time to waste; he had to take action now! He had to find Newt before anyone else did! After that he would also try to locate Ripley.

* * *

It took some time to fill out the necessary forms and get the final approval, but Hicks took out some days of his accumulated leave. After having put in a requisition for a jeep in the base's motor-pool, he headed out to the last known position the reporters on the news had said that Newt had been in: Washington. His determination and his affection for those he had until recently thought were dead gave him an unexpected amount of energy, so he drove the jeep all day and night until he reached his destination without catching some sleep. It was a little past Nine o'clock in the Monday morning when he parked outside the school of Washington State University where the shooting last week had occurred, killing a young girl the assassin had mistaken for Newt. The school was open again despite the drama that had occurred and he hoped that he would pick up some sort of trail here, even though the chances for that were slim. He found it weird that Newt was attending here… this was a school for the wealthy; a category of people where the girl didn't really belong. The colonists on Hadley's Hope at all been ordinary people. While he'd never deny her a good education, he wondered whom it was raising the money to put her here.

He left his driving-shades on over his eyes – they wouldn't completely cover his scar, but it would make him a little more presentable. No need to startle the kids. The students not in class looked over at him intently as he stepped inside, no doubt they were curious to know what a military man was doing there. Hicks walked through the rows of lockers in the main hall as he tried to identify the way to the classrooms or the teacher's offices. On one locker he saw a scribble which caught his eye: _Pissypants!_ It made Hicks' stomach turn. Some poor young soul had fallen victim to abuse with ugly names – unfortunately it was common in some schools. He felt sympathy for the youngster.

After having asked his way around, he found the classroom in which he would find the teacher tutoring Newt's class. He knocked on the door and a response 'Enter' was heard from inside. Stepping inside, he was unsurprisingly greeted with strange looks from the students; some were awestricken, others were excited. They all shared the same question though as to why a soldier was visiting them. The teacher was as surprised as her kids when she saw him.

"Can I… help you, Sir?"

"Mrs. Carmody?" Hicks walked up to the teacher's desk. "I'm Corporal Hicks. I'm doing an investigation of the unfortunate… incident which occurred last week."

"You are?" Mrs. Carmody asked with disbelief. "But we already gave the entire testimony to the police! Shouldn't you talk to them?"

"I intend to, but I wanted to start here. My questions may differ a bit from the ones the police asked."

"Oh, no offence meant, Corporal…"

"None taken."

"…it's just that I am surprised. I didn't think that Bianca's death would be of any interest to the military?"

"It isn't," Hicks said. "My interest lies with the other girl."

"Rebecca Jorden!" the teacher said, understanding.

Hicks nodded in confirmation. "I need to find her. And any information that you might have which would help me to look in the right direction would be much appreciated."

By now the students had started chattering amongst themselves. "He wants to find the _smelly cat?_ " some whispered. "What does he want with that lowlife?" One made the mistake of speaking up a little too loudly. "Whoever would want to find _Pissypants?_ "

"Melissa!" the teacher scolded the student. Hicks turned sharply on his heel to face the girl with the loud mouth.

"WHAT was _that?!"_ he asked sharply. He stepped over to the student with menacing strides and then he removed his shades, allowing all of them to get a full glimpse on the left side of his ravaged face. Melissa's own face paled. "What did you mean by that name: Pissypants?" Bianca Horsepower's former crony cringed under his intensive stare, but did not say anything. Her silence told Hicks everything though and the concept of it filled him with tremendous rage. He slammed his fist down hard on the bench before her, making Melissa leap back in her chair in fright. In fact, every student jumped by the soldier's outburst.

" _You_ _ **bullied**_ _her, didn't you?! You made her life a living_ _ **hell**_ _, didn't you?!_ " Melissa started to cry. For her sake, it had better be in shame!

"Now wait a minute…!" Mrs. Carmody objected. "You can't just come in her and harass my students…!"

"But letting your students harass their classmates, do you find _that_ acceptable?" Hicks was so angry that he had no interest of being friendly anymore. He saw everybody in there as an enemy now.

"Look… I know we had some problems and that Rebecca's time here wasn't so pleasant…" the teacher tried to defend herself. "But begging your pardon, you don't know how things _work_ here…"

"And I don't _care!_ The only thing that interests me is the welfare of that girl, and I find that she had _none_ of it here! How can you expect me not to be _angry_ about it?"

"Are you her dad or something?" The boy speaking was trying to be cocky, but Hicks could hear the quivering in his voice. The soldier walked a bit closer to him.

"You want to know why I'm so keen on finding her? I'll tell you!" Hicks now positioned himself in the middle of the room so that he could address everybody. "Rebecca Jorden saved my life!" That made everybody look at him with bewildered expressions. Had the low-life done a heroic deed?

"My team and I went to her planet because we were investigating a radio black-out and while I can't give you any details, the colony itself was on the brink of total annihilation and Rebecca was the only survivor, having lived through a horror that none of you can even _begin_ to imagine! We were not at all prepared for what we faced there – we were all about to die, hadn't it been for an escape route which Rebecca herself presented for us! In a soldier's world when someone saves your hide, it is something you _never_ forget! You are indebted to that person for _life!_ "

The students listened, knowing by his tone that the soldier was telling them the truth. Who would've believed that of a low-life kid? They were starting to see their former classmate with new eyes.

"I never got to know that girl for very long," Hicks continued with a stern tone. "but what I learned of her is this: Rebecca Jorden is the _most resourceful,_ _bravest, smartest_ and _strongest_ little girl I ever had the _privilege_ to encounter! A _kind_ one too – well worth a _thousand_ of you! You kids may have your wealth, but to her none of you is worth _**spit**_ , and you _never_ will be!" Hicks was about to leave, feeling disgusted to be amongst people who would bully another just because they feel that they should be worth more. He knew that none of those would know something anyway as they felt in their opinion that there was nothing about Newt worth knowing. At least they all had the dignity to look ashamed now for what they had done.

"What did you face out there?" a boy asked before Hicks had reached the door. "What did she save you from that was so horrible?"

"Pray, kid," Hicks didn't turn around to say this. "Pray that you _never_ find out!"


	18. The second target

After he'd left the classroom with the spoiled children behind, Hicks went to the Principal's Office to have a talk with Mrs. Hannigan. But it turned out that she couldn't give him any more information than the class could. The school was a dead end. He went back out to the Jeep and rode off again, this time heading to the police station to have a talk with the officer in charge for investigating the crime scene. As he got there however, he found out that the detective by the name of Connelly was not in at the moment. The policeman was on his way to the hospital to question two suspects which had been admitted there. Feeling that he had no time to waste, Hicks went to the hospital as well to look him up. It was a good thing he was a soldier serving his country, otherwise the desk clerk might not have been so keen on allowing Hicks admittance to the ward where detective Connelly was presently doing his interrogation.

It was easy to find the right room as there was a police officer outside standing posted to make sure that the suspects wouldn't leave. The officer in turn wouldn't allow admittance, so Hicks had to call through the door from the outside.

"Detective Connelly! It is urgent that you must allow me to speak with you! It concerns a matter of national security!" That was a lie, but the detective would never know that.

The detective looked out. "Who are you?"

"I'm Corporal Hicks. I'm investigating the murder attempt on Rebecca Jorden."

"What do you know about it?"

"That's for me to know… I need to know what _you_ know!"

"You know; this is why I dislike dealing with the military. Sharing information between us always ends up being _one-sided!_ " Connelly objected, but in the end he relented. What else could he do? "Let him in!" he told the police who stood posted outside. When Hicks got in he saw two men in separate beds beside the detective. At first glance he saw nothing wrong with them, but they did have a weird subdued look on their faces.

"These men saw her," Connelly explained to Hicks. "They… _encountered_ her some time right after the murder attempt as she was fleeing for her life."

"Which way did she go?" Hicks started to ask the men. "Did she look hurt?"

"Corporal…" the detective cut in. "These men are suspected _child molesters!_ "

That information made Hicks feel a sense of chill crawl along his spine. " _Did you hurt her?!_ " he growled at them.

"We never _touched_ her!" one of the men was quick to say. "We only wanted to help her!"

"But then that big guy showed up…" the other said. "...and he _shot_ us!"

"What big guy?" Hicks demanded. "Was it someone she knew?"

"He claimed she belonged to him…" the first perp said.

"And she went along with him!" the other concluded.

"Willingly?" That sounded a little strange to Hicks. "Who was he?"

"How are we supposed to know? We never saw him before!"

"But I sure like to know…" the other said. "…so we can _sue_ him for what he did to us!"

"Which way did they go?" Hicks asked. "Did they disappear in a car? Did you see a license plate?"

"We were lying on the ground _bleeding_ , man! You think we felt like looking at _cars?!_ "

"Wouldn't do you any good to know anyway, Corporal," Detective Connelly suddenly shot in. "They ditched the car after the shooting on the old Highway."

"The blocked road?"

"The very one," Connelly confirmed. "Look, Corporal, I have already questioned these men on the matter, they won't have any more information that will be good to you. If you'd please step outside with me so that we can discuss this further outside of prying ears?"

Hicks agreed and followed the detective to the door. Before he exited the room however, he turned back to the two men on the hospital beds. "If I find out that you did something to that girl, there will be no place on this Earth where you can _hide_ from me _!_ "

"You can threaten us all you like, soldier," the other perp said dejectedly. "You can't do any _worse_ to us than what that big guy did!"

Hicks waited for him to continue, but he wouldn't say anything more. It was the detective that filled him in. "That big guy, whoever he was, made these men into _eunuchs!_ "

" _You had no right telling him that!_ " the first perp protested.

"Like it matters to you – you'll be locked up for _years_ away from here at Fury 161 anyway for your earlier crimes!" The detective and the soldier left the room and walked off to a more secluded corridor. "That's the reason for my visit here today: to make a formal arrest, read them the Miranda and giving them an attorney 'til the court ships them off this planet. But that's not what I want to talk to you about…" They stopped and the detective faced the soldier.

"Look, Corporal, I can tell by your face that this is not a professional case for you… it's personal. You're emotionally determined to find that child."

"You got that correct," Hicks said, finding no reason to hide that fact.

"That's why it makes me sad to tell you this, but you can call off your search. The girl is dead!"

Hicks had hard time keeping his emotions in check. "Why do you think that?"

"It was on my desk this morning. The girl and her 'kidnapper' made it to the Golden Gate Bridge yesterday – but they were intercepted by agents of the Company who was waiting for them. They used _excessive_ use of force – blew the car right off the bridge and hurled it into the depths below them! They salvaged the car, but the bodies had been carried off by the underwater currents. There's not even anything to bury!"

"No bodies were retrieved?" Hicks questioned. "Then what makes them so sure that there even were people in the car?"

"The agents spied them before they opened fire, there's no reason to believe otherwise."

"Well, _I_ don't believe it! I _won't_ believe it!"

"Suit yourself, Corporal, but you're wasting your resources. The police have already closed this case."

"Maybe you have, Detective," Hicks said determinedly. "But until I've seen some bodies, I'm going to keep believing otherwise!"

"Have it your way. Good day, Corporal," Connelly said and walked away. 'Good day'. Not 'good luck'. The detective was convinced that the outcome had been what it looked like and the case was closed. Hicks however was not convinced! Whoever this 'big guy' was, it all sounded like he was someone who was really in to protect Newt, and she had gone along with him willingly. If he was resourceful enough to get them to San Francisco without getting caught, then the guy might be professional enough to deceive his pursuers. Hicks was willing to bet his career on that. But if the guy had managed to throw the agents off their tracks, how was Hicks to pick it up again? Hicks contemplated on this as he walked outside of the hospital to the Jeep – so deep was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice that he was watched! And in danger!

* * *

Just a few meters away, in an alley at the side of the building, another military-clad figure stood watching as Hicks came out of the hospital. This being was garbed from head to toe in a camouflage suit with a crash helmet covering the head, and two piercing red lights glowed from behind the visor.

IDENTITY CONFIRMED! SUBJECT TWO OF THREE: CORPORAL DWAYNE HICKS LOCATED. TERMINATE!

The 'X'-terminator raised the M41A pulse rifle it had brought for this execution. As it was a machine, the irony escaped it that it was about to shoot a colonial marine-soldier with the standard arms-weapon those soldiers themselves typically used. However, from the Terminator's point, this would prove to be a tactical mistake, as it was about to learn.

* * *

It was Hicks' distrust for androids that saved him. He was just checking his wristwatch to look at the time as he was about to climb into the Jeep. But that wristwatch was a hybrid: it was also the 'droid detector'-device that monitored EM-field activity in the vicinity, and it told him that there was a mechanical being nearby! Hicks' training kicked in, so he didn't turn around at first to give away to the adversary that he had discovered its presence. Instead he looked into the rear-view mirror – and spotted the all-familiar shape of a military pulse rifle pointing at him! Naturally he recognized it, so many times he himself had held such a weapon in his hands!

Being fully aware of the weapons range and ability, Hicks bolted away from the Jeep and dived to cover behind one of the big flower-pots which was made of concrete that decorated the perimeter outside of the hospital. There were two of those with shrubberies planted in them, and Hicks dived behind the one to his right as it was the closest to him. Just in the nick of time as the android let it all loose. The air was filled with the thundering repetitive roar of fire-blast and the tarmac which the soldier had just vacated exploded into tiny pebbles. The firing continued as the assassin droid attempted to blast through the big pot made of stone slabs which Hicks was hiding behind, but it would take a while to hack through all of that protective barrier. Hicks was however despite that in a very dire situation: he was on leave, not on a mission. That meant that _he_ didn't have a weapon to defend himself with! And there was no way he could leave his cover without getting gunned down.

The gunfire had thrown all the people around into a panic and they were quickly fleeing in all directions. Some inside of the building were running towards the action though. Detective Connelly and the policeman assigned to guard the suspects came out with their weapons drawn. Quickly assessing the situation, they turned towards the source of the weapons-blasts, pistols raised.

" _This is the police! Throw down your weapon or we will shoot!_ " the officer shouted.

" _That's a robot!_ " Hicks called out over the din from the machine-gun. " _It won't listen…!"_ Hicks' warning came too late. The terminator instantly registered the new-comers and concluded that they were a threat. It swiveled the pulse rifle and sent a full burst into the policeman's torso. The impact threw the poor man backwards and he landed as a bloody heap against the entry-doors – he would never move again. The only fortune that had come out of it was that the pistol the officer had been holding was also flying and it landed close to the pinned-down soldier. Hicks managed to grab it just as the detective landed beside him, seeking the same cover.

"He shot down my man as if he was just a just an obstacle standing in his path!" the detective needlessly told the other as the bullets resumed to slam into the giant flower-pot.

"That thing is not programmed to take regard for human life!" Hicks returned.

"You're quite sure that he is a synthetic?"

"Positive!" Hicks didn't give any more information than that. Instead he went into tactical mode. "Listen, I know the type of gun the droid's using! Any moment now it will have emptied his mag'! Once it slaps a new one in it will have to manually inject the first round into the breech! That gives us an extra second to retaliate and take it down! You up to it, detective?"

"Anybody who takes a shot on my men is always on open season to me!" he said, holding up his pistol.

Hicks smiled and cocked the gun he'd taken in possession from the downed police officer. "Get ready…"

The moment came only shortly after. The firing ceased and Hicks heard the familiar clank of an empty magazine hitting the tarmac. Any practiced hand would quickly slap a new one into place so the time to act was now. Giving the detective the signal, they both scrambled to their feet and posed their respective weapons over the top of the shrubbery and fired simultaneously. Their adversary was hit and it twitched from the impacts – but it didn't go down! And already a new magazine was in the slot of the rifle!

"It didn't drop!" the detective gasped. "What kind of an android is that?!"

" _Get down!_ " Hicks barked. Too late. The soldier was back down behind cover in an instant, but detective Connelly's chest erupted like geysers from several holes from his punctured hide as the 'X'-terminator let loose a new salvo. The police-man dropped to the ground with his shirt drenched in red bodily fluids. Hicks could see that there was nothing anybody could ever do for the man anymore. The only thing he could do was to make use of the late detective's gun to even the score. Hicks was in a desperate need to move now because his cover was almost gone, blown to smithereens by the repeated bursts from the pulse rifle. With a pistol in each of his hands, the corporal fired from a low-crouched position through the shrubbery. The hits made the cyborg's own aim to falter – just slightly, but enough. Keeping up the repeated firing, Hicks rushed away from the now ruined flower pot and headed to the corresponding one on the left side of the entrance which he ducked behind. Hicks had acquired a new shelter, but it had cost him the ammunition in both the guns.

Hicks felt his adrenaline pumping, but it didn't do him much good as he was unarmed yet again. He peered through the roots beneath the second shrubbery, just above the slab of concrete which made the side of the left-side pot to get a good look at what his enemy was doing. The android was not shooting anymore – instead it changed its grip on the rifle, placing a hand on the pump-lever underneath the smoking barrel. Hicks knew exactly what this meant – his adversary was changing into a more destructive tactic!

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh _shit_ …" He quickly abandoned his cover and rushed off, just as the android pumped the slide of the grenade launcher. The other flower pot blew up in a mixed cloud of smoke and dirt. The concussion blast threw Hicks off his feet and sent him flying – he could feel the heat singe the back of his hair. He rolled as he landed to avoid breaking his bones, but his skin would be decorated with a lot of black and blue marks if he survived this. There was a large dusty screen of smoke hanging in the air from dirt and powdered concrete, and it would be a few seconds before it would dissipate, and Hicks was going to make use of that smokescreen to run.

Hicks didn't flee because he feared for his life or simply because he was unarmed – he was running because he was a soldier, knowing what his first duty was. He had to lure his attacker away from the civilian sector, he had to make sure that no civilians within the hospital would not come to any harm! He didn't stop to look behind him, but he knew that the android was in pursuit. Hicks came to the side of the building where rows of cars stood parked – most likely those vehicles belonged to visitors who had relatives in the hospital. That knowledge didn't do Hicks any good at all – he couldn't commandeer any of those vehicles to make an escape as they were all keyed to their respective owners. For a moment he made a stop behind a big van to catch his breath, but in the next second he realized what a bad idea that was. He barely had time to jump clear before the van exploded from another launched grenade. This time the explosion that partially engulfed him was magnified by the gas in the van and it burned away the oxygen around him which made him breathless. The heat from the blast threatened to burn off the outer layer of his skin so he instinctively covered his face with his arms as he flew through the air.

He couldn't recall the landing, but as he came to he was surprised that he didn't feel more pain then he should. That would most likely come later. Right now he needed to keep avoiding detection. He couldn't see the android behind the burning van, so he assumed that the mechanic couldn't see him either. He had landed on the other side of the road against the opposite street where more cars stood parked and despite the pain he experienced right now, he rolled his body under one of those, a red Citroen, concealing himself from sight.

* * *

The 'X'-terminator rounded the pyre that was once a van, scanning the whole area with its sensors.

TARGET LOST! PROBABILITY OF ESCAPE INCONCEIVABLE! INTIATING FULL SENSOR SWEEP!

The terminator made a full circle on the spot it stood, analyzing everything. It didn't find anything out of the ordinary, except for an alley between two shops. The 'X'-terminator went in with the pulse rifle poised in one hand, finding that it was a dead end with quite a high wall in the back farther in. The target couldn't have jumped over there, so the corporal still had to be on this side somewhere. Then it registered a movement from under a pile of garbage that was mostly compiled of old newspapers and cardboards. The terminator dug its free hand under the pile, grabbed hold of a fistful of clothing and lifted the catch high up.

"Aargh! Don' 'urt me! I'm giving ya no trouble, so don' 'urt me!"

NO MATCH TO TARGET! This was not the corporal, but a homeless man who had taken shelter in the alley. It would be a waste of resources to exterminate this heap of flesh, so the cyborg just dropped him like a bundle and ignored him. He was not a threat. As the homeless man ran off, the cyborg felt the doors that connected to the shops on the other side of the walls. They were still locked and had not been breached. The target had not gone that way, which meant that he still had to be out on the street somewhere. Coming back out from the alley, it scanned for possible hiding spots. The only obstacles in the area capable of hiding a full-grown male body were the cars, and since the psychological parameters of mankind always made them take measures against intruders on their property, the doors of those cars should all be locked – and while many of the windows were cracked by the result of the exploding van, there was none that was smashed in. The corporal could therefore not be inside any of the cars, which concluded that he had to be _underneath_ one in order to hide!

The cyborg walked up to a parked car, a silver Aston, which it grabbed on to and with strength which would be impossible for a human, the terminator toppled it over with a loud crash. Nothing underneath there. It walked over to the next car in line and did the same with that; flopping over the blue Nissan onto its roof. Finding nothing underneath there either, the terminator now walked over to yet another car: a red Citroen. The 'X'-terminator was just about to flip this one as well when something new caught its attention in its auditory receivers. _Sirens!_ A whole convoy of police cars was heading in this direction.

Hicks heard the sirens too. He even saw them in the distance, because he was not hiding under a car any more - he had crawled back out in the open while the android was busy poking through the rubble in the alley. He now stood beneath a deep arch on the wall to one of the shops, making himself as thin as possible so that the android would not spot him. He had anticipated the coming of the police. Someone in the hospital _had_ to have called for them once the shooting had started – and he had managed to stay alive until they'd arrived to the scene!

To any normal perpetrator the coming of the police would be a disturbing nuisance – to the 'X'-terminator it was just another threat-assessment arriving to the scene which needed to be cleared away so that it wouldn't interfere with its primary mission. Already it was calculating how to best respond to the new offence. The lead car took the first assault as the terminator pumped the grenade launcher and sent a shell into the front grill. The police car jumped up in the air as the grenade went off and set the vehicle completely ablaze. As the wreckage crashed back down on the tarmac, it remained there as a flaming roadblock. The police bus that had followed second behind had no choice but to swerve to the side to avoid collision, just as the terminator had predicted. The curved armored glass serving as the front windshield of the bus was now turned away. Against that the bullets from the rifle might have been deflected, but the personnel entry-door was a different story. The doors of the bus were of course armored, but against the armor-piercing rounds in military-fashioned weaponry it had no defense. The terminator shot several rounds through the passenger-door, taking out the driver. The bus crashed into the row of parked cars and remained there, blocking the entire road together with the burning wreck.

The remaining three cars in the back of the convoy had no choice but to double-back and take another route, but they left several officers riding in the backseats behind along with the passengers on the bus to preoccupy the murderer. 'Murderer' was the word used because they had not yet any idea of what they were up against. Taking cover behind the bus and other parked vehicles, the police instantly let loose a large barrage against the perpetrator. They offered no chance of surrender to the killer as he had already taken the first action and eliminated the first wave. To their astonishment however, their opponent didn't go down. Since the gunfire was the main noise, none of the officers heard the resonate metallic chime of bullets ricocheting off armored plating which was the true nature of the offender. The terminator staggered from the multiple hits, but its determination did not falter. Switching the pulse rifle over to single-shot mode and using its internal targeting system, it started to pick off each of the police officers, one by one. It didn't matter how well they concealed themselves – something of them was always visible as they had to lean out from behind their cover in order to fire. Hicks witnessed the whole thing from his own point of cover as the policemen went down and it frustrated him that he could do nothing about it! But what could he do? He had no weapon of his own and against that robot, it would obviously do no good anyway. He needed something else.

The 'X'-terminator had almost taken out every man that stood cover behind the roadblock when the remaining police cars arrived to the area from a different direction after having rounded the block. The sirens gave away their approach to the cyborg and it instantly changed tactics. Again it pumped the slide of the grenade launcher and blew up another car, and it repeated the action to the following vehicle. There was only one police car left. The terminator switched the pulse rifle back to repetitive fire and sprayed the final car with the armor piercing bullets. It was now Hicks saw his chance, because the robot had done a very costly mistake. Hicks knew the M41A pulse rifle in and out: he knew that the machine had fired five grenades, which was the exact amount the weapon could hold! The grenade chamber was _empty_ and it would only be a short moment before the current magazine would be depleted!

While the cyborg was busy keeping the surviving policemen at bay, Hicks made his way towards the police bus standing motionless in the middle of the street. He went as low as he could to not attract notice from the robot whose attention for the moment was directed somewhere else. The remaining police around the bus was at disarray in their panicked state, focusing only on clearing their wounded from the battle-field and trying to get a grasp on the situation – none of them were really concerned about Hicks as he approached them. Hicks climbed aboard the bus through the backdoors and moved up to the front. The driver was still alive, but he was immobile and breathed shallowly. Hicks hated having to take advantage of a wounded man, but they needed to turn the tide against the killer robot. He moved the driver slightly to the side so that he too could sit in the seat, and then he took hold of the other's hand and placed it on the palm-print scanner so that he could start the motor. Once that was done, he opened the door and called out to a young female officer who was working on stopping the bleeding in the arm on her colleague.

"Hey, Miss," Hicks called. "Take care of this guy," he said as he started to shove the driver out.

"Hey, what…?" she started as she instinctively caught the falling body Hicks had shoved out. "Who the hell are you? What do you think you're doing?!"

"Sorry, can't talk! You can question me later!" With that he slammed the door shut and put the bus in reverse. It responded well, considering it had been shot at.

Meanwhile the 'X'-terminator slapped in the last magazine it had to the rifle. It wasn't so concerned with depleting the ammunition at this point – there would be plenty of arms to collect from the fallen police force. It was just about to take out the last of the humans when its sensors noticed that something else was going on. The bus was on the move and it looked like the big transport was advancing towards it! The terminator focused on the driver it had previously assumed had been eliminated and saw that the answer was a completely different one.

TARGET CORPORAL DWAYNE HICKS REAQCUIRED! TERMINATE!

The 'X'-terminator pumped the slide under the pulse rifle to launch a grenade – but none would come out as the chamber had been emptied. Instead it let loose a barrage and sprayed the front of the approaching bus, but the curved armored front deflected most of the slugs. Hicks kept his head down all the same in case a bullet would happen to penetrate the shielding. He put the pedal to the metal with all intent to run it over and rammed the bus into the android at high speed. Hicks didn't stop. He saw that the robot was wedged on to the fender of the bus so he turned the vehicle and went down into the alley where the machine had thought he'd gone first. He was going to crush that android into the wall that was the dead end of the alley. As he picked up speed Hicks saw movement under the windshield and got a full glimpse of the robot as it climbed up the hood. He had never seen an android like that before – the crash-helmet was gone and revealed a chromed head resembling a skull with two piercing red eyes glaring at him. The robot swung back its arm and smashed it right through the strengthened windshield and a claw-like hand was forcing itself through the hole attempting to make a grab for his throat.

Hicks would not let himself be distracted by the hand reaching for him. The back wall was quickly coming up and also the most dangerous part of this action. Hicks forced himself by sheer willpower to keep calm, focusing entirely on his training. He had to relax all of his muscles. It was when you tensed up right before a crash that you were at the highest risk of suffering a whiplash-damage in your spine when the vehicle came to a sudden stop. He had to follow along and trust that the seatbelt and the airbag in the wheel would protect him. And for god's sake: don't anybody try this at home! Just as the clawed hand reached through enough to make a grab for him, the bus slammed with full speed into the wall, the body of the android taking the full force of the impact.

The policemen who could still stand walked up to the smoking bus, waiting for a movement. They almost fired when the backdoors of the bus opened up, and a soldier staggered out.

"Damn it!" he croaked. "That… really… hurt!" And then he passed out.

* * *

Later when the salvage team would clean up the mess, they would find no android wedged between the bus and the wall – only an open manhole in the ground in the back of the alley. The 'X'-terminator was damaged and weaponless, it would be a tactical mistake to continue the battle. But its mission had not changed. It would repair itself and collect new weapons and then it would find the target again to complete its task. It's what a terminator does.


	19. Lawbreaker

"You're one damn lucky son-of-a-bitch, soldier-boy!" the policewoman said.

"It's not luck," Hicks explained with a sleepy voice. "I'm just too stubborn to go down." It was the next day; well over 24 hours since the battle on the street. After Hicks had passed out and the killer robot had escaped the scene, all of the doctors and nurses had finally deemed it safe to come out of the hospital to treat the wounded. Hicks had actually fared a lot better than he should have: the burns were superficial, as were his bruises – but he sure was going to be sore for a while and it would be some time before he could hear properly after the explosions. He was confined to bed though for further observation as none of the doctors were ready to dismiss him just yet.

The policewoman talking to him was the one outside the bus, the one Hicks had passed the wounded driver to. "I call it luck just the same," she said. "which is more than I could say for my team. The death-count is _still_ rising! Three more men died during the night and there are two who are still in critical condition where the doctors aren't ready to give us any hope!" The woman clenched her teeth as she said this, the sorrow threatening to overwhelm her. "What the hell _was_ that thing?"

"If I had an answer to give you, I would." Hicks said. "But I have no idea what kind of an android that was. I've never seen the type before, and I've seen a lot in my service - but nothing that even comes close to that!"

"Well, that's just great," the policewoman said exasperated. "The entire police force in the south county of Washington has been brutally decimated by half in the last few days and we have nothing to show what hit us! The investigators are going to bite down our throats so hard that we won't be able to sing a tune for a year!"

"I know the exact feeling," Hicks said. "I lost my entire unit last year and I have nothing that I can openly put the blame on. You have my sympathy."

"I don't need sympathy; I need to know what happened! Is there absolutely nothing more you can tell me?"

"Not without compromising classified information which I as a soldier is pledged to keep quiet about under the jurisdiction of the American law! I'm sure you know the drill?"

"Yeah, I know it… and I hate it!" the woman said. "I joined the force because I didn't like how the government kept secrets to the public, I felt I had the right to know. The biggest mistake of my life since I found myself being bound by even more rules and secrets which I can't disclose to the public." The woman sighed. "Look, Corporal… we're not ungrateful to what you did for us. Had you not stopped that thing it would have probably resulted in the rest of us being dead as well. But I have checked up on you: you are currently on leave and have no right to operate anywhere in the states without orders. You commandeered a police vehicle without authority – my duty requires me to put you under arrest for that. But the police force is in disarray – we are still picking up the pieces and don't have the resources to do our regular work. You got three hours before I come back with a formal arrest to lock you up. I suggest you won't be here by then – losing you in the process is currently quite explainable considering the circumstances."

"Not a problem. I wasn't planning on staying anyway!"

"You're pumped full with anesthetics," the woman said as she headed out the door. "Don't get caught out there on the road!"

No, Hicks did not at all plan to stay where he was. He felt bad for the police force since obviously that machine had been targeting him and the men responding to the emergency had taken the consequences for that. But hicks couldn't let himself be distracted by the recent events – he had his own quest to follow which took precedence: he still had to find Newt, and then Ripley as well! Hicks was at a loss of how he would find the adult, but in the time he had spent in this bed he had gotten an idea on how to locate the little girl! Despite what the late detective Connelly had said, Hicks was convinced that the child was still alive. But in order to find her he needed to go back to his base. Hicks had broken some laws by interfering in police business – now it was time to break some military laws as well!

* * *

The trip back to Nevada and Area 51 went on longer than the trip out had. Hicks had to drive the Jeep slowly and carefully as he had pain-killer drugs in his systems. Fact was: he shouldn't even _be_ driving in his condition, that's why he had to stick to the smaller roads! But he got out of Washington without incident and began his journey back. But because of the anesthetics he had no choice but to stop at an inn later that evening and sleep off the rest of the drugs. When he woke up the next day most of the drug had gone out; he was still in pain from the ordeal against the killer-robot, but those were at tolerable levels now.

When he finally got back to Area 51 sometime right after noon, everybody at base reacted to his injuries of course, and Hicks had a hard time fending off the questions. Once his fellow soldiers' pestering inquiries were through after an hour, Hicks was free to proceed with his own plans. The felony he was about to commit against the military regulations was to take place in a secluded section of the base's own Satellite receiving area. Normally he would never do such a thing as breaking military rules – but he had been lied to as he had been led to believe that Newt and Ripley were dead, and that was something he would never accept. Sitting down and logging in using a code he had discreetly obtained from an oblivious technician, (the first of many felons he was about to do,) he accessed the program that was tracking PDTs. Hicks was going to attempt to locate Newt almost the same way his old comrade comtech Hudson had located the colonists on LV-426 by scanning for the personal data transmitters each colonist had surgically implanted.

Funny history with those PDTs. Originally they were designed to keep track of people who managed to get lost in the wilderness so that they would be easy to find. The full supporters of the devices wanted to develop them further and give each chip their own unique code, arguing that it would help the police to immediately track kidnapping cases or other identified perpetrators who tried to avoid the law. But the critics protested to that and deemed that personal tracking devices would infringe to peoples' integrity and individuality. How was a person to become their own if they were to be surveilled all the time? And what if a beaten wife was under a protection program? If an ex-husband had access to the code, how was a woman to stay hidden?

In the end the side against the devices won up to a point, but not because they believed to have a better argument – it was because the company felt that manufacturing PDTs with a unique code to each and one of them was going to be very costly! They settled with a basic battery-operated signal and if somebody did want a more advance chip with a code, they would themselves have to raise the money to purchase one. But despite the advantage of having a locator-chip on their person, not everyone on the planet was equipped with one, only a select few had them. However, on a planet populated by several billions upon billions of people, a select few were still a lot! Calling up the schematics of currently operational chips on the entire planet, (a felony since he had no authorization to do this,) Hicks found by reading the computer's search-counter that there were hundreds of thousand people all over the globe that had them! Fortunately, Hicks didn't need to pinpoint every PDT on the planet, he only needed to look in the area at the west-coast continent of America. There were still well over 130 000 dots in several colors to look through though.

Hicks could exclude the green dots right away: those were the grand VIP-PDTs which were implanted solely to the most important people in the world like politicians including the staff and diplomats. Those were so advanced that they even monitored the health of the owner and would automatically report any malady to a special appointed doctor. Those PDT.s could be switched into a stealth-mode at the owner's own convenience to mask his whereabouts should he or she wish to be indisposed. Not recommended to do so, but it was within their rights to a private life. Hicks ordered the computer to ignore all of those in the search. The green dots disappeared from the screen.

Next color to exclude was the bright orange ones: they belonged to the wealthy who could afford the better devices. The red dots were off the list too as those were tracking devices attached to criminals on parole and to those allowed to take their sentence in their own homestead. Those trackers were also numbered each to allow the police to zero in on those trying to escape. After those groups had been eliminated and wiped from the screen, there was only the regular ones left: pale yellow-white glowing untraceable dots that was implanted to the common people – none who could tell who the individual behind the dot was. There were over a hundred thousand of those showing on the screen living in the west coast.

Hicks leaned back in the chair, thinking his possibilities over. There had to be more ways to exclude the bigger mass from his actual target. He knew that there was one specific fact he had left out, one that would be crucial to his quest. Hicks tried to think back to the conversation he had overheard a year back in the complex of Hadley's Hope on LV-426 while Hudson had tried to locate the missing colonists using a PDT scan on a computer in the Operations section. It was something Private Wierzbowski has said, and the medtech Dietrich had corrected him. It took a moment of concentration, and then Hicks had it! Regular PDTs were powered by batteries which needed to be replaced every twenty years – but humans colonizing new worlds in space were equipped with a newer kind of model – one that was powered by the body's own electrical field so that they never had to be replaced. And Newt was a former colonist!

Feeling excitement, Hicks told the computer to exclude all kinds of PDT-signals except for the kind that was self-sufficient. Every dot was snuffed out from the screen, leaving only the ones Hicks had told it to scan for… 176 bright blue dots was now visible on the map of the west coast. 176 dots were still quite many, but at least these were spread out separately and easier to single out. It wouldn't do much good of course since he had no way to figure out which one of these that belonged to the child. He had no idea where she was now… but he knew where she had _been!_ Hicks called up the records of the PDT tracking data from six days back. Another felony as no one – not even the licensed operators – had the right to look at the past records unless there was a very good reason to do so. Those records were actually scheduled to be erased after seven days.

Thanks to the news broadcast following up on the kidnapper case, Hicks knew that Newt had been living with her grandparents. Calling up the records of kin to her deceased parents, Hicks had found the address in Washington, not far from the school where she had attended. He told the computer to single out all of the self-sufficient PDTs which had been in that particular neighborhood six days ago: the computer showed him only _one_! _That_ dot belonged to Newt, Hicks was certain of it! Now he was about to do another crime: he activated a program to run side by side to the satellite data. With that he _tagged_ the single dot. Hicks would never be able to follow it as he was about to fast-forward the recording, but a computer could easily do so. The crime to this was that no one had the right to track any individuality like this unless the person was guilty of a crime and wanted by the law. Hicks justified his action by thinking that the child was in danger which she as far as he knew actually was.

Hicks sped up the computer records, allowing the recorded hours to pass by in just seconds. The tagged dot moved around irregularly for a while before it finally moved out of Washington, through Salem and continuing all the way down towards San Francisco just as he had expected. The chronometer on the screen quickly counted away the real-time hours that had passed while the tagged dot continued to move in the direction towards the Golden Gate. Any moment now it would move up on the bridge where the police had believed she had died and from there he would…

SIGNAL LOST!

Hicks could only stare in disbelief at the words that flashed in his face on the screen. The scanners had lost track of the PDT right around the time where the attack on the Golden Gate bridge had occurred! But if the signal had been terminated right there then that could only mean…  
"No!" Hicks whispered and sank further down into the chair, feeling an icy sensation grip onto his bones. Does this mean that the child really had met her doom at the bridge? Could she really be dead? It couldn't be true! But yet there was no more signal, indicating that the PDT wasn't broadcasting anymore. Hicks' heart dropped down to his stomach: Newt had been lost to him again, for good this time! With trembling fingers, he rewinds the records to confirm the outcome himself. He slowed the recording down to play at real-time speed and he zoomed in as much as he could.

On the screen, he saw how the dot he had tagged moved slowly on the road on the map towards the Golden Gate Bridge. He sees how the dot halts momentarily just before the shore of the bay around the area where the bridge starts and where he knew that the san Francisco police and agents of the Company was waiting for them to blow them off into the water. Any second now the dot would begin to move… the seconds turned to minutes… There was something strange going on here. After five minutes the dot still hadn't moved from its position. And according to the chronometer, the time of the assault had now gone by and the dot was still present. Hicks risked speeding up the recording again, but not by much. What he saw really piqued his interest as well as filling him with new hope. He had not seen it as he had played the recording too fast the first time – but now he saw that the dot had never been on the bridge itself. In fact, it had remained on the cliffs on the north side of the bay for over five hours after the attack before it finally disappeared. So the question Hicks needed to ask himself was: how could a signal just disappear in thin air? He didn't believe it had just stopped broadcasting, so the answer must be that the PDT was shielded!

Hicks called up the military archives to see if there was something special about the cliffs on the side of the Golden Gate bay – and he found that there was in fact an old bunker deep within the rock. It had been out of service for centuries… which could make it a good hiding spot! And if those bunkers had been built as sturdy back then as they were made today, it could very well block a broadcast from a PDT. Hicks took a chance. He shut down the past records and instructed the computers to do a PDT scan of the cliffs in San Francisco in present time. The scans showed nothing, but Hicks was sure he might be on to something. Via the computer, he told the satellite over the west coast to pinpoint the area and boost the signal at then times the power. The computer complied but came up with nothing. The corporal repeated the request, this time with fifty times the power. As the computer did its work, Hicks could swear that the boosted signal picked up something! It was very faint, but it appeared to be something within that rock. But was it some kind of equipment which resided there emitting a similar signal, or was it the missing girl?

Whatever the signal was, it was enough for Hicks to decide to head out there and check it out personally! He erased the logs to dispose of the evidence of his activity and then he shut the computer down. When he was sure that he was clear, Hicks snuck back out from the Satellite receiving area and sealed it. If anyone was to catch him there now, he was just going to claim that he was doing security rounds. But as he rounded a corner he _was_ discovered.

"There you are, Hicks," said his friend the veteran Carl Norrington. "I heard you were back, but I'm surprised you didn't look me up."

"Sorry, buddy," said Hicks in reply. "I had a lot of things on my mind I needed to sort out for myself."

"I heard that you run into some kind of trouble. That looks nasty," he noted, watching Hicks' face.

"It looks worse than it actually is," Hicks assured his friend. "I've been through worse."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Let's say I hit a snag." Hicks did not want to elaborate more than that.

"Look, Buddy," The veteran stood beside the corporal and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I understand you're upset about the kid you saw on the TV-screen… but you do know that there is no more you can do for her, right? I've seen the rest of the news and you must have too. Sadly, she's dead, isn't it so?"

"We only have the news' word on that," Hicks said grimly. "Her body has not been found. I'm not ready to give up on her!"

Carl Norrington sighed. "I've been in the game quite long, Dwayne. I know what you just did in the Satellite receiving area." If Hicks was shocked, he didn't reveal it. "As your friend, I'd really like to give you this advice: let it go! If the brass finds out about your crimes, you will be put away forever. It's not worth it!"

"It is to me," Hicks argued. "It is a debt I really need to repay!"

"Even if she did save you from the aliens you must understand that you are treading on a dangerous ground here!" the veteran continued, softly and patiently. "Not only is it futile since she's dead, but you are also defying orders! You know that you are not to persuade anything that is connected to your old missions. You're not even supposed to talk about them!"

"And I never did!" Hicks said, watching the veteran sternly. "Which brings up the question: how do _you_ know about the aliens?"

"What?"

"You just said that the girl saved me from the _aliens_! How did you know that? I never told _anyone_ about those critters since I was under orders to keep quiet! Who the _hell_ are you, Carl?"

The veterans face totally changed character. He looked extremely furious as he pulled a gun and pointed it at the corporal. "A slight slip of a tongue and a whole year of work has gone down the drain!" he growled. "But considering how circumstances have changed, perhaps it is for the best!"

"You're an agent of the Company!" Hicks snarled.

"I'm on their payroll, I don't deny that! I'm assigned to keep an eye on you, to make sure that you stay on the program to simply shut up! I had quite an easy task up until now, but those other agents botched it all up! Now we'll need to 'recondition' _you_ as well!"

"I wondered how come you always put up with me!" Hicks said sarcastically.

"Well, that part wasn't easy!" Norrington admitted. "You certainly have issues, Corporal! One of the worst I ever had to deal with!"

"Well, then we're even!" Hicks countered. "After all, the Company sent the worst _excuse_ for an agent I have ever encountered! Where'd Weyland pick you up?"

"What're you talking about?" the agent asked, feeling indignant.

"How could somebody expect an incompetent fool like you to pass for a military veteran when you're clearly not aware of that a classic Smith & Wesson 39 semi is _incapable_ of firing while the safety catch is engaged?" The agent looked dumbfounded down at his gun, to see if he really had overlooked that simple detail. That was when Hicks charged, striking the other on the jaw with a clenched fist. Norrington staggered backwards, totally dazed by the sudden punch he'd received. He recovered quickly to a point though to retaliate – he crouched low and rushed at the corporal to throw his entire weight into the other's midsection. But Hicks was ready for him. He allowed the agent to make contact, but then the corporal grabbed on to him in turn while he rolled his body and allowed gravity to pull him to the floor. This action combined with the agent's own momentum made Norrington lose his balance - he was flipped over and then slammed to the floor, feeling the air escaping from his lungs.

As he lay on the floor seeing stars, Hicks jumped him and made a grab for the gun. The agent resisted, but was still too stunned to make it an even match. Hicks won the gun and scrambled back up to his feet. The agent attempted to rise as well, supporting himself on all four limbs. The corporal slammed the butt of the gun down on the other's neck, just below the base of the skull. The agent fell back to the floor, this time unconscious. Hicks looked at him with mixed emotions - so much for that friendship. He had been betrayed and that made him dislike the Company even more. Hicks contemplated whether he should report Norrington's treachery or not. Sure, most likely he was an industrial spy as well as a secret observer – but if Hicks told his superiors of Norrington now, the agent would as revenge spill all what Hicks had been doing, preventing him from leaving to search the cliff at San Francisco bay. He would do so any other way! It didn't matter what Hicks did from this moment on, he knew that his career within the army was over one way or another. And since he was looking at a dishonorable discharge, he could just as well continue to break the law.

It appeared that Norrington had been prepared for the possibility to be forced to take Hicks into custody from the start, because the soldier found a pair of handcuffs in one of the agent's pockets. How convenient, as those came in handy to tie up and gag the agent. Once that was done Hicks stuffed the unconscious agent into a broom storage-room in the corridor. He also left a note to the base-commanders telling of Carl Norrington's true allegiance. Making sure to avoid any further contact with other base-personal, Hicks made his way to Area 51's air-field. There was a ship there which would suit Hicks' needs perfectly. The ship in question was basically an UD-4L Cheyenne Dropship, the same kind he and his team had flown in every mission from the USS _Sulaco_. The one here in Area 51 was a ship that had undergone several modifications: it was outfitted for long-distance travel in space, complete with a small number of cryo-tubes. The compartment originally designed to transport an APC had been sacrificed to install a miniature FTL-drive, (Faster Than Light) so in effect, this little ship could travel to other planets by itself, just as the big cruisers could. But that was not the reason why Hicks sought to claim it – he wanted the ship because it was also outfitted with an experimental cloaking-device!

Once he was sure that nobody was around, Hicks snuck aboard the black-colored ship. It was black because in addition to the cloak, it was coated with radar-deflective paint which was commonly used on stealth-planes in the army. That was why it was designated as the ' _Ghost Rider_ '. The first thing he did when he got into the cockpit was to disconnect the transmitter which otherwise would enable the tower to track the ship via signals on a special frequency. That would not be possible now. Sitting down in the pilot's chair, Hicks' main concern now was if he remembered how to operate on of these things. His specialty had never been one for flying, he had always relied on Corporal Ferro. But she was not here so he had to make do as best as he could. Starting up the engines, he knew perfectly well that by now his actions had rallied up a commotion in Operations. Skipping the routine pre-flight check, Hicks set the _Ghost Rider_ for an immediate take-off and as he was in the air, he activated the cloak. A signal on the console told him that the stealth-field had engaged without any problems - there was no way they were going to be able to track him now.

Hicks sighed as he flew away from the base. Once he was caught he was going to be court-martialed for sure and be put away for a long time. But he would cross that bridge when he got to it. Jockeying the stick, he turned the ship into the destination of San Francisco where he hoped he would find the person he'd just sacrificed his entire career for.

* * *

It was night-time when Hicks reached the San Francisco bay and landing on the cliff. The entrance to the bunker should be somewhere on the side of the rock, about 300 meters away from his landing-spot. Before he headed out, Hicks dressed himself properly with the equipment stored aboard the ship: full camouflage gear with a helmet, a rifle and a set of night-vision goggles. Most of the gear was just for precaution, he had no idea what he would face within that bunker. The goggles were necessary however, he expected it to be pitch-dark within. Once he was ready, Hicks left the ship, sealed it and headed his way along the road which would lead to the entrance. Once there he found that the doors were sealed, not at all unexpected. But his former comrade-in-arms Hudson had not been the only one with the knowledge of bypassing electronic locks. A quick wire-crossing later and the door became unlocked. Hicks went into battle-stance and slowly ventured inside, holding his rifle ready.

The inside of the bunker was disappointment. It didn't look like there had been somebody here for a very long time. Through the green spectrum of his night-vision goggles he saw that the vehicles parked within was unmaintained and the other equipment was covered with dust. Hicks' hopes sank – if the stuff was in this condition, then it seemed unlikely that anybody was here. That meant the child was not here after all. Yet he couldn't escape the feeling that he was being watched - Hicks cursed himself for not thinking of bringing a motion-tracker. He stood still for a moment, listening and felt the environment. Nothing. He looked around, spotted a door to the side which he went over to. He looked inside, but found only an empty storage-room. Hicks went back out to the middle of the floor, feeling the despair wash over him. This place was abandoned; the child had never been here! His shoulders sloughed, and he was feeling lost. In one final desperate attempt before surrendering to the obvious, he called out her name, hoping against hope for an answer.

"NEWT?"

To his surprise an answer came, but not one he had expected. A gunshot suddenly boomed in the chamber. Hicks spun around, raising his rifle. He saw no one, but he could swear that he heard some voices!  
"Why… stop me?" That was as much as he heard, the rest was too low for him to pick up.  
"…knows… name. How…" That other voice sounded tiny! Like a _child's_ voice! Could it be…? And then from behind some crates to his left a small figure came out into view. He couldn't see that clearly through his night-vision goggles, but he did see that it was a little girl, whose features appeared to match those he had remembered from a year ago when he had first seen her, with a bib and brace overall and unkempt unruly hair! (She looked like she had just been roused from her sleep.) Hicks was about to call out when suddenly he went blind. The overhead lights of the bunker unexpectedly came on, rendering the function of his goggles useless. The lights hurt his eyes, so he quickly removed the devices from his face – the helmet came off at the same time. As his eyes was adjusting and returning to focus, he caught sight of a blurry shape coming towards him in a rush. Before he had time to comprehend what was happening, a warm body slammed into his and his view was obscured by a flowing mass of honey-blond hair.

"HICKS!" the girl cried out in clear happiness as small strong arms were wrapped around his neck. The former tension of hopelessness Hicks had felt earlier drained from him and he wrapped his own arms in turn around the body which squeezed itself to his. There was no longer any doubt.

"Newt!" he said all but relieved. "Thank heavens, kid! I was beginning to think that I wouldn't find you!"

The girl released the grip on his neck and leaned back with an arm's length, supporting herself from his shoulders. "But how _did_ you find me? And furthermore; where have you _been?_ I haven't heard a _thing_ from you since we got to Earth!"

"I'll be happy to tell you everything, kiddo," Hicks said, his gaze now directed to somewhere behind her. A big man was approaching, one who matched the description given by the two wounded child molesters he saw at the hospital. Her apparent 'kidnapper'! Hicks immediately became on his guard. "…but first: who is this man? And what's he got to do with you?"

"He's… not exactly a man." Newt told him. That was a very strange reply, kind of a cryptic answer.

"What do you mean by that?" Just then the man came with a question of his own, one which gave Hicks an even bigger surprise.

"Kyle Reese!" the man asked. "What are you doing here?"


	20. New ties

Author's notes: As many of you have probably guessed, I am ignoring Jai Courtney's performance in Terminator Genisys. I can understand the need of a new actor, but he looks nothing like Michael Biehn. With that in mind, it is now time to see finally how come Pops mistakes Hicks for Kyle Reese.

On with the story…

* * *

"What did you call me?" Hicks asked the old man with a bewildered expression. He wasn't pointing his rifle against the big stranger, but he wasn't exactly holding it away either.

"That is your name, isn't it?" Pops said, matching his grip of his own weapon to that of the other.

"It isn't," Hicks said suspiciously. "but I'm not unfamiliar to the name either. What I don't understand is how you can know about it! Who are you?"

Pops raised his rifle towards the soldier. "You first!" Hicks also pointed his towards his adversary, leaving both holding each other at gunpoint. It was the unarmed part of the group who acted though.

"Hold on there now!" Newt said, positioning herself between the two aggressors. "None of you is shooting the other, okay? I won't allow it!"

Hicks looked at the child with new eyes. He lowered his rifle slightly. "You've grown, kid." He was not referring to her mass.

Pops also pointed his weapon down. His tone was a little more scolding though. "You should not put yourself into harm's way like that, Newt Connor! What if he had shot you?"

"Hicks would never harm me," Newt told her guardian. "He came to save me on Acheron."

"Connor?" Hicks asked. His confusion of the name was momentarily ignored though.

"You trust him that much?" Pops questioned the girl.

"With all my heart," the child said assured of her statement. Hicks smiled.

Pops looked over at the soldier. "Newt Connor has vouched for you, so I will perhaps not terminate you – but I need to know how you found us!"

"That's for me to know," Hicks countered.

"You will tell me!" Pops demanded. "If you can find Newt Connor despite her being officially dead, then others may also be able to do so!"

"Why do you keep calling her 'Connor'? That's not her name!"

"She is the last descendant of Sarah Connor!"

"Who?"

Pops raised his weapon again. "If you know of Kyle Reese, then you should know of his spouse Sarah Connor! If you don't, then you are an impostor!"

Hicks also put up his rifle. "And you are obviously some kind of a _fraud!_ I don't know why you claim to know of Kyle Reese, but you certainly don't know enough about him to keep up the bluff!"

Newt stepped in between again. "Will you two cool _down_? Can't you just…"

"No, we can't, Newt!" Hicks said, this time not putting down his rifle. "Stay out of this, girl!"

"Get out of the way, Newt Connor!" Pops ordered with Hicks still at gunpoint. But the child didn't move. She knew that neither would risk shooting her, so she stayed put to make sure that neither of them would start shooting at the other. But she did remain quiet now.

"It is not me who is bluffing!" Pops told the other. "I know all about Kyle Reese! I fought alongside him and Sarah Connor!"

"Now you claim to have fought alongside a man who lived one hundred and fifty _years_ ago? Newt, get away from him _!_ This guy's a nutcase _!_ " Hicks burst out.

"No," Newt replied. "He's an android. Told you he wasn't exactly a man," she then added as she saw the surprised expression on the soldier's face.

"A _robot?!_ "

"Not a robot," Pops corrected him. "Cyborg. Cyberdyne Systems Model 101."

"Now I know you are a whacko! My family-history never said anything about Kyle Reese having his own personal robot-servant!"

" _Your_ family-history?" Pops questioned. "What does your history has to do with Kyle Reese?"

"He was my _forefather!_ " Hicks said, making it a point. "And per my family-records, he never married some Sarah Connor! His wife's name was Linda!"

"That's impossible!" Pops countered. None of them had lowered their weapons. "I have detailed files of the Connor/Reese family-line right down to Rebecca Jorden! There are no records of anyone named Hicks coming into them!"

"And it shouldn't!" Hicks confirmed. "It has never happened! You must have mistaken my Kyle Reese for somebody else!"

Pops took a long look at the soldier. "I have analyzed your stress-factor and heartrate. You are speaking the truth, and yet you look almost exactly like him." Pops said, now sounding bewildered. "Your forefather _must_ have been the Kyle Reese whom I fought alongside against Skynet. But I don't understand how I could…"

"Wha… what did you just say?!" Hicks interrupted, now looking shocked. "Did you just say… _Skynet?!_ "

"You know of Skynet?" Pops asked.

"I have only heard the name once in my entire life; and I _never_ expected to hear it again! My grandfather told it to me on his deathbed, but my mother dismissed it as an old man's delusions - and yet I was told that it was a message that has been passed down in the family for many generations. His last words to me was: "Remember: Genesys…""

"… _is Skynet!_ " Pops filled in, finishing the sentence. The cyborg finally lowered his weapon. "Now I understand. You are the descendant of the _other_ Kyle Reese: the boy who never had to live through the war and never went back through time to rescue Sarah Connor!"

"And now you lost me," Hicks said, also lowering his weapon as he somehow knew that the danger was now passed. "How did time-travel come into this? And what war?"

"What is your name?" Pops asked.

"Dwayne Hicks," he answered automatically before he managed to catch himself.

"Come inside, Dwayne Hicks. I believe we have a lot to talk about."

* * *

The group of three sat in the living-room area, the soldier and the child in the same sofa with the guardian opposite them. The machine told the soldier the entire story he had earlier told Newt of Skynet, of the Terminators and the war that never took place after Cyberdyne's destruction. But now he added the event of how he, Sarah Connor and the out-of-place Kyle Reese had looked up Reese's younger alternate version after their victory and gave him the message which had managed to spread over the fabric of time-lines which the soldier of the future had caught within the nexus of the time-field during his trip. Hicks seemed to take it in very well.

"That story really gave me quite a headache!" Hicks said as he drank from a can of soda. "I don't know actually what to believe of all that you've just told me, except for one fact: _I hate quantum-physics!_ " He took another swig of his soda, and then he looked over at Newt. "I wonder what this makes us, kiddo? Distant half-siblings? Or distant cousins?" Newt only shrugged, but not without a little smile. To her it was nice to know that she had a kind of blood-relation to Hicks even though it was very distant – she didn't feel so alone in the world anymore.

"And now you're saying that there's a new group of these 'Terminators' here in this era and they're out to kill Newt just because she is the descendant of Skynet's nemesis Sarah Connor?"

"I do not know the true reason for them wanting to terminate Newt Connor," Pops said. "but if Skynet really has managed to come into power in the future it is logical to perceive that Skynet wants to make sure that the bloodline of Connor does not come in its way again!"

"What's she gonna do to become a threat – give birth to another resistance leader like Sarah did?"

"Eew!" Newt made a face of disgust. "That is a _gross_ subject!"

"That was in another reality," Pops pointed out. "In present history, John Connor never came to be as the war was prevented and Sarah Connor and the Kyle Reese from the deleted reality was out of place in time. A resistance leader was never needed back then, so perhaps history has rearranged itself to bring forward a hope for humanity into this era instead. I do not have any details, but I would not rule out the possibility that a child of Newt Connor could be humanity's next savior."

"Stop right there, _right now!_ " Newt burst out. "I'm too _young_ for that sort of talk!"

"Is there any way to find out what the _true_ reason for murdering her is?" Hicks asked, steering the subject to the side to appease the girl, although he wasn't comfortable with speaking of her 'impending' death in her presence either.

"The only way to find out that is tactically dangerous," Pops stated. "The three Terminators who are hunting her probably knows the true story which is stored in the memory banks of their CPUs. Acquiring one of those is not a best course of action at this time. While I am more advanced, I am at a disadvantage because of my age. I am old; my motor-responses are not up to the standards of a T-800 at it's prime. Back in 1984 I had the assistance of Sarah Connor to defeat the machine which had come to terminate her. I calculate little success of defeating the new terminators here as I am on my own."

"So what are you going to do? Just sit here and hide?"

"My mission is to protect Sarah Connor and her family. Newt Connor is the last of her offspring and I must see to it that she lives. The best course of action to ensure her survival is to keep her hidden until she has reached maturity to protect herself."

"But that is no life for her!" Hicks insisted. "You can't keep her locked up like this!"

"I raised Sarah Connor like this! I can do the same with her!"

Hicks stood up. "No way, Old-timer! She's not a mechanical being to program by your will, she needs human contact and personal guidance! Besides, you said yourself that you have been out of touch with this world for one hundred and fifty years! What do you think you can teach her?"

"Do you believe that you are a better choice, Dwayne Hicks? I have seen very little to indicate that you are a suitable protector of her! You would perish at the hands of the Terminators in an instant!"

"I have already survived once; I can do so again!"

"What do you mean?"

"By your descriptions of these Terminators, there is no doubt that I have already faced and defeated one of them! A machine which I have never seen the likes of before made a strike at me in Washington two days ago! Red glowing eyes and a chrome skeletal head. That's them, right?"

Now Pops stood up as well. "Why did you not tell me this before? With Rebecca Jorden believed to be dead the Terminators wouldn't look you up as an accomplice to her to try to pick up a trail! There's only one answer to why they would try to kill you: _you are the second target!_ "

Now Newt spoke up after having been the silent non-participant of the discussion. "Hicks? W-why would they want to kill him?"

"Possibly for the same reason they seek to terminate you: Skynet wants to make sure that the offspring of Kyle Reese does not interfere with its plans!" Pops now turned to the other again. "You have put Newt Connor in extreme jeopardy by coming here, Dwayne Hicks! The Terminator is most probably tracking you, it is their function! If it finds you here it will find the child as well and then they will know that she is not dead!"

" _Relax!_ " Hicks said. "I crushed it to the wall with an armored police bus! It's only a scrap-heap now!" But he wasn't so sure of his statement anymore as Pops glared silently at him. "Isn't it?"

"Did you see this 'scrap-heap' with your own eyes afterwards, Dwayne Hicks?"

"No, I… I mean… I assumed the police took care of the remains, but..."

"A Terminator can easily survive that kind of an impact! It could be anywhere near here by now. I must see to the bunker's defenses! I will connect to the main computer. Stand by." Pops became still for a moment as his attention was directed elsewhere. He wasn't 'gone' for long – he turned his head towards the two humans… "We got a problem!"

"What kind?" Hicks asked.

"He's already here!"

Just then the ground shook as a giant explosion rocked the hill. Out in the main entrance, the doors sealing the bunker were blown off their slides and those flew inwards with flames licking the surfaces. Through the now-open entry-way, the camouflage-clad 'X'-terminator walked in, armed with the magnetic breacher in one hand which it had just used to blow the barrier away, and the fully loaded M41A pulse rifle in the other, ready for battle and termination.


	21. Instincts for survival

With the threat of the killer-robot having entered the bunker, Pops and Hicks was hurriedly arming themselves with the weapons the old machine had prepared a few hours earlier.

"How could this be?" Hicks asked as he did a quick check on the M-16 rifle with a built-on M-203 40mm grenade launcher he'd just picked. "I was sure I covered my tracks! How could it trace me?"

"You humans are not as systematic as the artificial intelligence of a terminator is," Pops said as he inserted the ammo-belt into a modified portable minigun. "You can never completely cover your tracks! If there is a slightest trail left, the terminator can find it. It's what they do!"

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," Hicks muttered under his breath as he slung another rifle; an M-60 over his shoulder. He then turned towards the child.

"Newt! If you got a special hiding-place picked out, you go there right now and _stay_ there! Don't leave it for _any_ reason! Okay, girl?"

"And remember it can imitate voices," Pops added. "Don't answer if you hear any of us call for you!" Newt nodded and went her way. Hicks looked away – he figured it was better if he did _not_ know where she was going to hide. Before the two combatants went out, Hicks added a Uzi to his armament. Then they went out to face the threat: Hicks with three kind of weapons and Pops with the minigun only. If he had any other weapons on him, he concealed them well.

"Quick. Give me a crash-course on the terminator's weak-spots!"

Pops reply was not satisfactory. "It doesn't have any!"

"I don't buy that!" Hicks snapped. "You told me yourself how you and Sarah defeated a machine back before you met up with Kyle Reese. You damaged it enough to make it shut down!"

"Only because it was momentarily standing still as it was about to deliver a killing blow to me. A moving target is prone to withstand the kinetic force of a ballistic object and deflect it. Besides, the bullets we used back then were of a special brand that is impossible to come by."

"What'd you use?"

"The only possible way we had available to us so that we would be able to compromise the outer shell of a terminator's hyper-alloy chasse was to use bullets made from the same kind of metal as it were made of. We forged the bullets ourselves."

"Where'd you get the metal for that?"

"From me! I had some pieces removed from places behind my armor which wouldn't compromise my condition and I replaced them with a weaker kind. There weren't many bullets we could make."

The pair had now reached one of the large outer chambers of the bunker which was not part of the habitat section. There were mostly crates stacked there. Hicks knew that this was bad, because there was a lot of hiding places here. Hicks didn't bother to consult his 'droid-detector' he carried on his wrist – it would not be able to distinguish one android from any other. Again, he cursed himself for not thinking of bringing a motion-tracker. They stopped to listen for footsteps or scraping to the floor.

"Do you think he's here?" Hicks asked quietly, but still as loud as he dared to make himself heard by the other.

"He should be!" Pops stated, not as quietly. Then he suddenly gave the soldier a powerful shove. "Get down!"

Hicks flew quite a bit. It seemed like a violent move, but it was to save his life as the spot Pops had cleared him from suddenly exploded. From a hidden corner the 'X'-terminator had fired a round from the magnetic breacher it carried and the impact of the fired shell blasted a large hole in the concrete, filling the air with fire and dust. Hicks would've been smeared to the wall now had Pops not pushed him away. The 'X'-terminator stepped out from behind its cover to assess the result of its attack, guns raised. There was still too much miniature particle-debris floating in the air for its sensors to make a full analysis, that's why it failed to notice its other adversary; the rogue unit stepping out of the cloud to 'greet' it before it was too late.

Pops pressed the trigger of the minigun. With a loud-pitched sound the barrels spun around the axle of the motor-unit and let loose a deadly barrage of armor-piercing bullets. The magnetic breacher, the more powerful weapon in the 'X'-terminator's possession was knocked away from the machine's hand - dented and bent it fell to the floor, damaged and totally useless now. Pops directed his line of fire across the other machine's torso, intent to take out the pulse-rifle as well. But the enemy terminator wouldn't let the rogue unit get that far. Taking hold of the remaining pulse-rifle in a two-hand grip, the 'X'-terminator let loose a barrage of its own, opening several silvery holes in Pops' liquid metal-cover. Now the two machines from two different time-lines stood shooting at each at almost point-blank range with a force that would hack a normal human being into unrecognizable mince-meat. Both staggered from the multiple hits each one of them took from the other, metallic clangs ringed in the bunker from repeated impacts on the hyper-alloy chassis, but neither would fall or even relent.

While the terminators stood shooting at each other, Hicks was moving around the crates out of sight to flank the enemy machine from the side. He found a spot where he had a clear shot at the killer robot, but he didn't dare to reveal himself just yet. All the enemy terminator had to do was to momentarily redirect its line of fire to completely perforate Hicks' hide should he expose his position, so the corporal therefore had to wait for the right moment before he could charge. The moment came quickly: the 'X' had spent its magazine and needed to reload - for some reason Pops had also stopped firing. Hicks didn't stop to wonder how come, he simply acted. As the 'X' released the spent mag' and was about to slap a new one in, Hicks stepped out from his cover and let loose his ammunition. Not with bullets, but with the grenade launcher on the M-16. The soldier fired repeatedly and the enemy terminator was suddenly engulfed in fiery hot fire from several explosions.

The spot the 'X'-terminator had occupied was a pyre and Hicks walked up to Pops whom was already 'healing' his gun-wounds while he struggled with the minigun. The soldier found it creepy how the holes in Pops' body flowed over in silvery liquid and solidified before his eyes.

"You should exercise extreme caution when firing the M-203 grenade launcher, Dwayne Hicks." The cyborg said as he worked on the weapon.

Hicks groaned, feeling unappreciated for his action. "I can't find you being concerned for me violating close-quarter regulations ninety-five through ninety-eight?"

"I'm not," Pops replied. "But those crates around us contains more weapons and explosives. If you set off one of those bombs you may start a chain-reaction which could blow us all up!"

" _Now_ you tell me!" Hicks felt cold by the revelation that he was standing in the middle of a weapons-depot. "At least my attack finished the job!"

"It didn't," was Pops' short answer and true to his words, the 'X'-terminator stepped out of the raging pyre still fully functional. Burnt flakes of different materials fell off its torso and the metallic surface gleamed in orange from the light of the fire. All the excessive cover; remains of flesh and camouflage clothing, everything had been burnt away. The terminator showed itself to them for what it was now: a skeleton-like combat-machine, built to be mankind's doom. And it approached the two adversaries now, ready to kill! The pulse-rifle it had possessed was gone, but that fact didn't seem to make it hesitate in any way. Hicks fired his weapon at it, but to no avail: the bullets bounced off the adequately-sloped composite hyper-alloy armor like flies crashing into the windshield of a car, leaving no damage at all.

Pops threw away the minigun. "His last shot damaged the motor. It's inoperable!" Hicks responded with unslinging the M-60 from his shoulder while backing away, laying down cover-fire with the M-16. The extra weapon was tossed to the 'friendly' cyborg. "Make good use of it, Pops!" Hicks called over the roar of his own firing. Pops did just that, but it wasn't enough to sway the 'X' away from its primary function. It had its sensors fixed on the soldier and the mission parameters flashed in big letters on the machine's visual display: TERMINATE!

Faster than Hicks had anticipated, the killer machine was upon him, totally ignorant to the swarm of bullets that was released against it. The 'X'-terminator raised its mechanical arm and swung it towards the soldier, intent to smash his face in. It was Hicks' military training which saved him this time, he managed to duck just in the nick of time before the other connected. The mechanical arm punched right through the wooden crate instead, sending splinters in every direction. Hicks was on his knees and the machine towered over him to deliver another hydraulic-powered blow. The soldier raised the M-16 rifle in a two-hand grip just above his head to deflect it. The idea was good in theory, but practically it cost him a great deal. He deflected the blow, but the impact was so powerful that it broke the rifle in two and the abusive kinetic force was channeled through the two halves of the weapon into his arms. He didn't know if he screamed, but the pain that jolted through his arms made him convinced that the bones within was completely shattered – it was so excruciating that he blacked out.

The 'X' had a clear shot for the kill, the soldier was totally defenseless – but before it could do the murder, the stock of another rifle slammed into its head. Pops held the M-60 like a club and he swung the weapon repeatedly at the other machine, driving it away from the unconscious human. The 'X' recovered quickly though and shielded the next blow with its arm. The M-60 flew out of Pops' hands and disappeared somewhere into the bunker. The cyborg didn't bother to look for it, instead it went into a clinch with the other, going mano a' mano against it. Both machines were now back at the fight they had begun at the Yutani Mall in Washington, but this time it was going to be a fight to the finish. The hydraulic drives of both terminators could be heard whining as they struggled to destroy the other.

Meanwhile Hicks came to, spying the two combatants in the peripherical view of his eyesight. His arms felt numb, but thankfully he could still move them. He struggled to get up, knowing that he would have to return to the battle. But what could he do? His human strength was no match to that of a killing machine – if it hadn't been for his military training, he would be dead now. Fact was, a military tactic was what he needed now; brute force alone would never accomplish victory in this case. He tried to collect his thoughts, going through exactly what he knew about that terminator in his mind. Pops had declared that it had no weak-spots, but Hicks refused to believe that – _everything_ had a weak-spot, it was just a matter of _finding_ it!

As he crawled up on all fours, he recalled the conversation he'd had with Pops earlier. Okay, so the only way to penetrate a terminator's chasse was to use bullets that were of the same material as it was made of – but that option was not available. Pops had used material from his own body to make the bullets in 1984, which told Hicks that while you couldn't damage a terminator on the outside, it was susceptible to damage from within. Maybe that was the answer: just like an egg it could withstand a lot of force on the exterior surface, but could perhaps be vulnerable on the inside, where control-circuits and other delicate equipment to make it function should be located! Hicks knew what he needed and what he had to do, but he feared that it would cost him his life. Well, if it meant Newt's safety, then so be it.

Hicks got up on his feet while the machines continued their fight. He leaned against the crate the terminator had punched a hole in and what do you know: within the hole Hicks spied the very device he required now: a magnetic shaped charge! Pops was apparently well equipped – Hicks couldn't help to wonder where he had acquired all these weapons and why. Had he prepared for some kind of war?

Silly question – of course he had! And unless they could stop the machines that had come into this era, a nuclear war would be upon them in the future if Pops' theories were correct. Hicks didn't want to believe that such scenario was possible, but he couldn't afford to take the chance – this killer robot had to be stopped or it could mean the end of humanity as he knew it! Obviously, the fight was taking a toll on Pops – he was an older model and not up on his prime. The 'X'-terminator was getting the upper hand. The enemy unit had its back to Hicks, so hopefully it wouldn't see what he was up to. Thankfully it didn't appear to have any sensors in the back of its head – a mechanical error he hoped that Skynet would never think of correcting. Hicks armed the shaped charge and moved in.

With a swipe of its arm, the 'X'-terminator threw off the rogue unit with a powerful punch, and Pops flew into some other crates. The boards that made the crates cracked under Pops' weight and he got tangled in the wooden debris. Had the 'X' been able to express feelings, it would have given the other a glee for having acquired the upper hand – but it wasn't programmed for that. It didn't have time for it either as it suddenly detected something going on underneath its torso. Hicks had sneaked up right behind the terminator and now he jammed the magnetic shaped charge up into the protective housing between the waist piston and the metallic spine. The 'X' spun around with an outstretched arm to slam the pestering human away. Hicks took the hit, but it wasn't lethal thanks to the fact that the soldier was already in motion to jump away, so the punch only helped to make him fly further off to the side. The 'X' knew that a foreign object was inserted within its housing and it reached in with its mechanical fingers to remove it – that's when it blew. And as the terminator's body contained most of the explosion, several joints within took the full blast which was much too powerful to withstand. The 'X'-terminator blew apart in a fireball and the pieces were spread in every direction.

Everything was quiet in the bunker for a moment except for the sound of Pops crawling out of the crate he had fallen through. As he got up, he walked over to the wall to fetch a fire-extinguisher. He had to put out the fire the crates had caught from the explosion before it reached into the armament that was packed within. Once the fire was out he went over to the fallen form of the human soldier. His sensors told him that he was alive, the cyborg could hear him lying wheezing. Pops turned him over even though you should never move a wounded. Hicks groaned and Pops checked him out – surprisingly he wasn't all that seriously wounded.

"I was wrong about you, Dwayne Hicks," Pops said. "You are a formidable warrior."

"…Thanks…" Hicks muttered under his breath, fighting the pain. "All the same, I think I'd rather take on those damn bugs with acid for blood again instead of these cursed robots! At least _they_ died when you _shot_ at them! But don't tell Newt I said that – she hates them even more than I do." Speaking of Newt, Hicks could almost swear he heard her calling his name. Looking over to a wall on the far side of the chamber, he realized that he wasn't imagining it. A grate unlatched from within and fell away and from the hole behind it, the child emerged. Hicks almost laughed at his own stupidity – _where else_ would the girl have hidden if not in the air ducts?

Newt jumped down on the ground from the entrance to the duct. She had seen the whole battle from the behind the grate and her heart had threatened to jump out of her chest every time one of her friends had taken a hit. But the terminator was now defeated, so she deemed it safe to come out - besides she was anxious to see if Hicks was alright. So intent was she to get to Hicks' side that she almost failed to see danger she was about to pass by. It was only thanks to her heightened senses she had gained from her solitude in her ruined colony that she became aware of the motion from the mechanical debris to her left. A metal arm suddenly shot out attempting to grab her leg. With a gasp, she instantly jumped away and then she saw how the debris from where the arm originated twisted and turned, and two piercing red lights fixed on her and the debris moved closer. Newt screamed.

The child's cry of fright made Hicks forget about his aching body. He instantly scrambled to his feet and both he and Pops rushed to Newt's aid. The severed and damaged torso of the 'X'-terminator dragged itself with one remaining arm towards the child – no matter how damaged it was, it would not stop until the targets were dead. Newt herself wasn't wounded however, so she could quickly escape from the crawling metal monstrosity. She rushed into Hicks' arms, seeking safety there.

"Won't that thing ever give up?" Hicks growled as he held the child to him. "What does it take to kill that rust-bucket?"

"Terminators don't rust," Pops said unnecessarily with his usual equivalent tone. He strode over to the remains of the machine, slammed his foot down on some loose cables beneath the torso to stop the enemy cyborg from advancing towards the humans and then he leaned down to pin the twitching body to the floor by putting his knees on the back of the other, putting his entire weight down on it. Then Pops grabbed hold of the twitching arm with one hand and the other on the head. "With most of its mass blown away, it won't get the leverage to resist or kill unless we allow it to. Still it's too dangerous to leave it active. Dwayne Hicks, I'm holding it down. I need you to deactivate it."

Hicks left the child away on a clear spot and joined Pops beside the twitching remains. "What do I do?"

Pops was holding the skull down to the floor in a firm grip. "See that circular plate on the top right side of the dome? That's a port-cover! Pry it off!" Hicks found a piece of metal lying around that looked dense and strong enough to work as a prying tool. Hicks wedged it in under the edge of the plate on the skull, twitched it as hard as he could so that the two locking cylinders holding it sealed cracked with a 'pop', and the circular plate came off.

"What now?" Hicks asked.

"You see a shock dampening assembly inside. Remove it!" Hicks looked inside the opening in the skull of the terminator and saw what appeared to a plug of some kind within. He pinched his fingers onto what looked like some kind of handle and pulled. A small cylindrical piece came out and revealed a deep hole in the metallic cranium. In the bottom of the hole there was small rectangular device visible.

"That's the CPU," Pops informed Hicks. "It contains most of the primary software and operational functions essential to run a terminator. Without it, a terminator is no more dangerous than a broken toaster."

"That's a funny metaphor. Are you actually capable of telling jokes?"

"Just pull the chip, Dwayne Hicks!"

The red glowing eyes of the 'X'-terminator was fixed on the soldier as he approached the socket with a pair of tongs. It made a last attempt to break free with the little mobility it had left in what remained of its body, but to no avail – Pops held it down firmly. Hicks could almost swear that those piercing red eyes were displaying evil thoughts of revenge of some kind, but that was a ludicrous feeling. It was just a piece of machine - yet a dangerous one at that. Hicks grabbed on to the CPU with the tongs and pulled the tiny little chip out. The red eyes or the 'X'-terminator instantly diminished and went completely dark. The remains of the endo-skeleton became completely inert.

"Is it dead?" Hicks asked while he examined the tiny little circuit board.

"It's nothing more than a 'scrap-heap' now, Dwayne Hicks," Pops said as he got up. Newt dared to come a little closer now as she heard those words.

"You _do_ have a sense of humor," Hicks stated. Pops gave him a grin in reply: an extremely _ugly_ grin. "But _not_ an ensuring smile!" Hicks added repulsed.

"Sarah Connor taught me that. She said I needed to blend in. I think I got the hang of joking, but my smile always needed a little more work."

"No doubt about that," said Hicks.

Newt wasn't interested in Pops' lack of social display. Her senses were more acute than average after LV-426, and she could almost swear that something was not right.

"Are you sure it can't hurt us anymore?" the girl asked.

"The terminator is completely inoperable, Newt Connor."

"Yet I'm sure that I can hear some kind of a low humming from it."

"That is not possible, Newt Connor. Without the CPU, it is fully incapable of…" But here Pops stopped himself. He stared at the remains. "You are correct! There is an activity still going on, although there shouldn't be."

"What's it doing?" Hicks asked, pulling the Uzi he'd picked earlier but never got around to use. If necessary, he was going to shoot it to pieces on close range.

"I'm reading an energy build-up within the torso. It's quickly climbing to a high level!"

"What's happening?" Newt asked nervously.

"Is it re-activating?" Hicks shot in.

"Negative! The energy-level has already passed beyond the usual operational requirements for the terminator's functions. It's going to a critical mass! It's _over-loading! It's a_ _ **self-destruct!**_ " Pops turned to the two humans. "The detonation will blow out the whole _bunker! Go! Get out now! RUN!_ " The seriousness in Pops' tone was so strong that Hicks did not stop to question it. He quickly scooped up Newt in his arms and rushed for the exit as fast as he could, with Pops running closely behind him. _Don't look back_ , Hicks thought to himself. _Don't hesitate; just run!_

Pops wasn't limited to mono-tasking as humans were. While he ran, he calculated the numbers of rate that the energy in the terminator-wreck was climbing and the distance they had to get to the exit. He didn't say it out loud to the humans in front of him, but they were not going to reach the bunker-opening in time before the detonation.

Hicks could see the night-sky at the far end of the chamber. Grabbing tightly on to Newt so that he wouldn't drop her, he willed his legs to move faster. But then the world exploded and the bunker-exit were obscured from his eye-sight…


	22. Safe Haven

Pops re-calculated the numbers as he ran, but the prognosis were far from good. The metallic carcass of the 'X'-terminator would explode at any second – the blast would in turn detonate the armament he had stored in the crates and start a massive chain-reaction that would level the entire bunker. There was simply no way they would be able to outrun the blast-radius which would obliterate everything in there.

Pops could not understand how this could be – no terminator had ever had the ability to self-terminate, and this was not a result of a leakage from a raptured power-cell, he had checked the status of that even before they pulled the CPU from the wreck. Unless it was a kind of modified version of a terminator from a future which Pops had no real knowledge of, the over-load must have been set off by a remote! The status of the 'X' must have been watched and when it went offline, some outside force was going to make sure that all evidence would be destroyed. All this was at this point just theories and unless Pops could do something to save them all before they got caught in the explosion, they would never be able to uncover the truth.

His sensors registered a massive heat-bloom expanding from the spot where they had left the terminator-wreck – the detonation was commencing! Pops only had about a second to act. He was running real close behind Dwayne Hicks who had Newt Connor secured in his arms – Pops stretched out his own arms forward as if to pick them up. But what he did was to let his poly-alloy cover flow from his own endo-skeleton to envelop the humans in front of him. It was a time-consuming process, but just as the gigantic fireball behind them expanded and was about to engulf them all, Pops managed to seal all of them inside a makeshift sphere made from his poly-alloy and he used a lot of his energy to strengthen the surface into a hard, impenetrable shell just as the explosion slammed into their backs.

The shockwave of the detonation picked the sphere up and carried the round shape with it. The silvery sphere was shot out through the entrance of the bunker like a cannonball and was blasted away from the collapsing cliff, flying high above the San Francisco Golden Gate bay. For the two humans sealed inside the sphere, this trip was a horrible experience. Within the dark enclosed space where the only source of light they had were the two gleaming red dots from Pops' naked skull, their equilibrium was totally lost and they were tumbling within their confinement. Newt was screaming and Hicks was certain that he was doing so as well. This was not at all like a drop in a landing-craft from a space-cruiser that was usually described as an express-elevator to hell – this was much worse!

It wasn't long until gravity took hold of the flying sphere and forced it back down to the surface of the Earth. Fortunately, it wasn't all the way over the bay when it touched down. Breaking through the surface of water sent a jolt of pain in the 'passengers' within the sphere, but it was better than the alternative. Had they landed on solid rock on the other side of the bay, the sudden stop would've broken every bone in their bodies and killed them instantly – but in the water their momentum continued as the round shape sank towards the bottom. Since the sphere was hollow and it also had pocketed air within, it slowed its descent and soon changed direction, raising up towards the surface again. The sphere bobbed up on the surface and remained there afloat. The top-side of the sphere above the water-line opened and the walls flowed down on the sides, releasing its passengers. The giant ball had now become a lifeboat. The two humans gasped and was completely disoriented. But the cool air of the night helped them to regain their composure.

"God damn…" Hicks croaked. "What a ride!" Newt tried to answer but she got a different priority. She scrambled to the side of the 'boat', leaned over and retched. Her stomach was in complete uproar and her head throbbed. Hicks didn't blame her at all, he felt the same as she did. When the girl's tummy finally settled itself, she slowly twisted around to face her two companions. Her tone was almost accusing. "Don't _ever_ put me through that again!"  
Hicks raised his hand in a silent promise that he wouldn't. Pops' acknowledgment was impossible to determine since all they saw of him now was his endo-skeleton – his poly-alloy cover was what made the 'boat' they were sitting in.

What a macabre sight this had to be; it looked more like they were sitting in a silver sarcophagus than a boat, with a battered metal skeleton sitting half up from it. The most disturbing thing about the situation was those red glowing eyes staring at them – the same eyes from the other machine which had attempted to kill the soldier twice. This was not the same android, but those eyes made Hicks want to shoot him anyway just to be on the safe side.

Just then the sky rumbled and the night was illuminated by the fire of the secondary explosions from the stored armaments which destroyed the bunker completely. The cold air was replaced by heat from the raging inferno and pebbles and rocks fell on them from above.

"We can't stay here," Hicks said. "Not only is this 'rain' dangerous, but the explosions will attract the authorities and we can't let them find us here! Get us back to the north-side shore, Pops!" The Terminator put out his arms on either side of the 'boat' and used a small portion of his poly-alloy to form paddles on his hands. Those he dipped into the water and he moved his arms back and forth in a rhythmic manner. Pops was rowing them across the bay.

"Why are we going back?" Newt asked. "Don't we want to be far away from the fire in case the police show up?"

"We do, but my ship is parked on that side. If we're lucky it wasn't caught in the blast - I landed a bit away so that the vibrations from the engines wouldn't announce my coming upon your roof. It's cloaked, so if we can just get to it undetected we can make a get-away without anyone knowing we were here."

It took some time, but they were soon back beneath the cliff. On the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance they could see blue lights from emergency vehicles coming across.

"We better hurry," Hicks urged while he lifted the child up on shore. "My ship is just above that ridge!" The 'boat' melted and flowed back over the torso of the endo-skeleton – but it looked like Pops had some trouble re-shaping himself. The poly-alloy seemed to want to drip down on the rock and the robot hands twitched. It took some effort for him to get back in control.

"Are you damaged?" Hicks asked him.

"No," Pops replied. "Old! And drained. This action to save you took a lot of the energy I had left in my power-cell. I no longer have a year of function. Seven months' tops, then I'm gone."

"Is there something we can do about it?"

"Negative. My power-cell cannot be recharged, and the one in the terminator has been obliterated. I am nearing my end, Dwayne Hicks. It is inevitable." Newt turned away so that they wouldn't see that she looked sad. During these few days, she had grown quite attached to the android.

"So… what are you going to do?" Hicks asked.

"Continue my mission! I'm going to make sure that Newt Connor remains alive. We've destroyed one terminator - now I will make sure that the other two won't get to her. After that, it won't matter if I go offline. If she lives, my mission will be a success."

"I can go for that," Hicks said. "but you're going to need my help to do it!"

"Negative! It will be easier to hide her if I take her alone!"

"And where are you going to do that? You just lost your bunker!"

"I'll find a place…"

"You don't have time! If those terminators are so formidable as you've told me, then they know that the one who attacked us has failed! You can't wait for them to come to you; _we_ must take the offensive! We have to find them first!"

"How do you propose we do that, Dwayne Hicks?"

"We still got this!" He held up the CPU he had pulled from the 'X'-terminator. "You said that this might contain the information you need to know why they want Newt and me dead. If we can get access to the information, then we will get the advantage of knowledge and increase our chances to survive them."

"It's too dangerous for me to access it directly, it might override my own parameters. I will need access to computers and I require certain hardware to build a port to plug that in as well. As you said: I don't have the time – unless you know of someplace where I can find high-tech equipment and solitude where the authorities or the Terminators won't find us!"

"Actually… I think I know just the place – a safe haven for all of us."

* * *

The modified dropship the _Ghost Rider_ had survived the explosion intact and Hicks and his band of fugitives managed to get onboard and fly off before they were discovered. With the corporal at the sticks, they were heading to a new destination which only Hicks was privy of. It had become dawn by the time the soldier announced that they had reached their goal after having flown some time over the hilltops of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

"This is it," Hicks told his passengers. "We've just passed over the perimeter-line into government controlled grounds. I'm going in for landing."

"Government grounds?" Pops sounded suspicious. "You would call _that_ a safe haven? There will be people down there expecting us!"

"No, there won't," Hicks replied. "This base is desolate in the middle of nowhere and it is known to be empty of valuable equipment. No one therefore bothers to take the time to come here, so the base is unmanned."

"If there is no equipment here, then how did you come to think that this place might suit our needs?"

"Just you wait, Pops – everything is not as it seems to be!"

Hicks landed by the foot of a mountain-side. They could see a lone half-circular shaped Quonset-hut built onto the face of the cliff. There were indeed no people here, since no one came out to arrest them for trespassing. The company of three exited the _Ghost Rider_ and they went up to the entrance of the hut. The door wasn't even locked. Inside it looked more like a garage than anything else as there were old military vehicles parked there, unmaintained and abandoned since a long time back. Pops figured that this base was used as an intermediate stop for long-distance military travelers.

"There's nothing here," Pops stated.

"That's what the Pentagon and the White House wants you to believe," Hicks said. "The base's true purpose is in the back." The back of the hut looked nothing more but a solid metal wall, inconspicuous and quite ordinary. Hicks walked over to what looked like a large fuse-box beside the wall. When he opened it up, all similarities ended. Inside there was an active screen which came to life and on it there was a text written: RED 937.

"It's a code prompt," Hicks explained. "Usually visitors are required to have a special envelope with codes with them, but that's something we don't have. I'm going to need some time to get through the 'backdoor' of this lock-program."

"What is it supposed to unlock?"

"This wall is actually a blast-door, and behind it there's an entrance to another bunker," Hicks explained to Pops while he typed on the keyboard under the screen. "Now to see if this secret by-pass code works…" He hit a button and suddenly some alarms blared, red lights flashed. With a rumble the wall began to rise, revealing a secret passageway behind it. "Presto!" Hicks said in satisfaction.

Newt looked amazed while Pops expression was as passive as always. "You've been here before," was all he said.

"Actually I have _never_ been here before," Hicks said as he led the way through. "But my former commander Sgt. Apone has! I'll explain once we get down for you to understand better." The soldier led his companions into the tunnel which had been drilled into the rock. In the back of the passage they came to an old-fashioned elevator which they stepped inside. It was centuries old; Hicks had to crank a lever to operate it. "This is the only way in or out. It runs with the aid of a counter-weight – there's no power to this car, even the lights in here are battery-operated. Should there be a black-out, then the people down there won't be stranded."

The elevator descended deep into the mountain, way below ground-level. When they finally got to the bottom they could feel the cold air of a cave giving their skins goose-bumps. "It'll get better soon, as the heat-elements warms this place up," Hicks told the girl who stood shivering. "The architects went all the way to make sure the one's occupying this place would be very comfortable."

Newt looked around. Even though the color was as boring as what you'd expect to find in a bunker, she saw that this place was indeed designed to house occupants for a more comfortable period of time. This first chamber looked kind a like a gathering point for several people. There was a row of chairs and desks build as a half-circle against the wall, and on the middle of the floor there was an old camera, covered in a transparent shroud to protect it from dust. It faced the middle-chair, the most grandeur of them all. Above that chair, there was a large shield with a bird imprinted on it, and a text that said: ' _The seal of the President of the United States of America'._ "What is this place?" she asked.

"This is a fallout shelter for the VIPs of this country," Hicks explained. "A secret hardened facility for the President and his staff should the country ever fall under enemy attack. Welcome to Crystal Peak."

"How did you know about this place?" Pops asked.

"My former commander in the marines Sgt. Apone confided this location to me. He had an incredible service record even before he took command of my unit, so he was picked for becoming one of the presidential security guards who would be responsible for bringing all the important people here should a crisis to the country ever emerge. He got to visit this place during his training and left here with a little more knowledge than what his superiors had in mind.

"The blast-door up there – remember I said you required a special envelope with codes to get in? There's a secret password to get by those codes in case no one could bring the codes. That trick is extremely top secret – Apone was not supposed to know about it, but he always had ways to pick up such things without anyone noticing it, don't ask me how. As it was, he turned the Presidential guard offer down as he was a man of action, he wanted to be out in the field. But he kept the knowledge of the secret password to himself in case he felt he would some time in life need it. Apone was a loyal soldier, but he never fully trusted the brass; a feeling the two of us shared. It is every soldier's sworn duty to disobey illegal orders and report the egregious misconduct of his superiors, but as corruption is _common_ in every chain of command, there is a high probable risk that high-ranking officers won't respect such reports!

"Both Apone and I knew that someday there would come a time when either of us would have to disobey an illegal order and that the responsible officer issuing it would try to put us away to cover his own ass. Apone had planned to come here then as this is the last place somebody would look after a fugitive – the Pentagon thinks that this is the safest and unbreakable location of this Earth. Only I as Apone's second-in-command and trusted friend was entrusted with this secret. _This_ is where I would come looking for him or vice versa. This was our safe-house. He never had the chance to use it, but it will now come to use for our purpose."

"But will it suit our needs?" Pops asked. "Does this place have what Newt Connor needs to survive? Does it have the equipment I require to build a port to access the CPU?"

"Pops, this place was designed to protect the _President_ for an extended period of time! It has _everything_ a human need to survive! It has luxury suites and plenty of food and water. There's even a workshop down here."

"And no one will come here?"

"There's a maintenance crew coming here every ten years to replace obsolete computers with newer models and to change the storages. Last time was seven years ago when Apone helped doing so. Unless someone attacks the world, no one is expected here for another three years."

"It's not optimal…" Pops stated. "…but it will suffice for the time being. I will go to the workshop to start constructing an adapter for the CPU immediately. In the meantime, you should find a cot for Newt Connor. I can read on her body language that she is exhausted."

"Understandable. With me showing up on your doorstep with that terminator in tow, you didn't get much sleep this past night, did you?"

Newt gave him a petulant look. "Why do you grown-ups always want to put us kids to sleep?"

Hicks tousled her hair affectionately. "If there's any consolation, kiddo, this ugly ol' soldier is going to catch some eye-shut as well. My body aches so badly from the last days of action that I surprised that I'm able to stand up at all."

* * *

Author's notes: This is supposed to be the same bunker where John Connor and Catherine Brewster ended up in in the end of _Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines._ That movie and timeline is annulated of course with Terminator Genisys, but I find using the location fits in nicely with my story.


	23. The choice

Author's notes: I'm so sorry for the delay, but I just had another tragedy in life. In the wake of losing my mother almost four months ago, my stepfather also died this past weekend, so now we had to go through another take with the authorities to tie up the ends they left behind which took precedence. I pray I won't have to deal with anymore bad circumstances this year, it has been extremely tough.

Anyway, this chapter is finally finished. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

DRRRRIIING!

How was one supposed to get some sleep with that awful signal of her phone? Who would even be calling her? Newt reluctantly stretched out her hand to fetch that annoying cellphone from the nightstand where she usually put it for the night and brought it close to her face to read the screen. 'Unknown number'.

There was something about this situation that did not feel right. Something was amiss. Although she had a bad feeling in her tummy, she hit the answer-button. She brought it to her ear; she did not say anything – only listened.

"There you are!"

The voice had not come from the phone. The girl shrieked in fright as she saw the towering humanoid shape with glowing red eyes looming over her. The figure raised a fist and was about to slam it down on her, but she somehow managed to scramble out of her bed before it connected. The fist broke through the matrass and the upholstery of feathers flew up in the air. Newt quickly fled out of her room and out into the hall. How did that killer-robot get into the house? Her grandparents always kept the door locked at night. What was _she_ even doing back in that house? In the back of her mind as she ran she was certain that the house wasn't supposed to exist anymore.

"There's no place where you can run, Rebecca Jorden!" the menacing voice said behind her. "No place to hide!" it kept mocking her. She didn't dare to look back to see how far back he was – she just kept running for the door to get out of there. But as she reached it and leaped out, she found herself in a rocky wasteland with collapsed buildings laying in piles on the ground as far as she could see. Even more terrifying was the bones and skulls of humans laying strewn across the field. It was a desolate world from a nuclear disaster. And in the distance, she could see the marching robotic skeletons with red-glowing eyes stampeding over the ground, shooting down running men.

"This is your future, Rebecca Jorden," the disembodied voice said. "There is no stopping it! Surrender now. Let us kill you and you will be free of this fate!" That was not an exhortation Newt was willing to hear of. In the distance Newt could now see the terminators marching towards her, approaching at such a fast pace that they made her think of a metallic tidal wave that was about to sweep over her.

Newt ran as fast as she could over the desolate and scorched ground. Was this the future that Pops warned her about? Could she really be an instrument in stopping this? The terminators wanted to kill her because Pops thought that she was an important piece to the puzzle to prevent a nuclear war. The girl could not for the whole world see how! Besides, how was she going to be able to save a world when no one was around to save her now? How was she to save this world when she couldn't even save Acheron? The hellish terrain she ran across did remind her of LV-426 – her planet of birth which had in the end become her personal hell. Which one was the worst?

"Which one indeed?" the disembodied voice asked as an answer to her own unspoken question. Newt halted. She was in a cave, but she could not remember how she got in there. Behind her she could hear how the army of terminators was approaching, but up ahead she could see the entrance to a crèche – the hive of the monsters that had plagued her for over a year! She couldn't see them, but she knew that they were in there waiting for her! She was trapped between two fires with no hope of escape!

"Make your choice, Rebecca Jorden!" the disembodies voice said evilly. "Die at the cold hands of the terminators behind you, or share the same fate your people suffered!" What kind of a sadistic choice was that? Newt was terrified - she felt tears streaming down her face. Was there no one to help her out of this? "Mommy," she whimpered. "Mommy, help me!"

"She won't help you, girl," a new voice gurgled. On the wall of the cave she saw both of her grandparents cocooned to the rocky surface. "She walked out on you the same way she walked out on us," her grandfather spat. "She abandoned her faith just as you did!"

"She didn't walk out on me!" Newt retorted. "She was _taken_ from me by _them!"_ She pointed to the entrance of the crèche.

"She wouldn't have been if she had just remained faithful to God," the old man persisted. "And now you will follow her because you refuse the lord!"

"Shut up!" Newt threw back at him. "You're just a mean old man who uses the name of the lord to make people do your bidding! You yourself drove mommy away and you took it out on me because she wouldn't follow your rules!"

"How can you say that, child?" her grandmother spoke up to her husband's defense. "You should show respect! Your grandfather looks after us just as God looks after us!"

"You're the one's glued to that wall," Newt pointed out. "Looks like he's busy somewhere else!"

" _Blasphemy!_ " her grandfather roared. "For that you will be sentenced to hell! But which one? Pick your fate, girl! You can't escape anyway! Choose, girl! _Choose!_ "

Naturally it was not a choice Newt wanted to make. She wasn't really afraid to die; she had felt dead ever since the invasion of the monsters back at Hadley's Hope – but she did not want to die by their claws! But the idea of being killed by killer robots didn't appeal to her either.

"Pops!" she called out. "You came her to protect me from the terminators! Where are you?!"

"I cannot help you," Pops answered, standing beside her. "I'm fading. I no longer have the power to protect you. If you don't want to be killed by the terminators, then you better go in there."

"But there are _monsters_ in there!" Newt protested. Pops didn't listen. He simply turned his heel and walked away. Newt slowly turned and faced the entrance to the crèche. Another figure stood there, but this one she didn't even bother to ask.

"Don't look at me for help," Ripley told her coldly. "I've had it with those creatures. If you don't want to face them, then go back the way you came." And then Ripley turned her back to the girl and walked away. Newt sank down on her knees, feeling utterly lost and abandoned. She was alone… all alone. No one would help her. She could hear the stomping of metal feet coming closer, and from the entrance of the crèche there was an eerie hissing heard.

Her phone rang again – hadn't she gotten rid of that thing? The text showed 'unknown number' again, but she knew who it had to be. How had they gotten hold of her number? Knowing she could never escape, she hit the answer and raised the phone to her ear.

"There you are!" the voice said again, but this time not disembodied. He stood right in front of her and now she had a good look at her killer. It was Hicks staring at her, with red glowing eyes.

"Not you too," she said dejectedly, feeling utterly defeated. Hicks raised his pulse-rifle and squeezed the trigger…

…and as before, Newt awoke with a start. Catching her breath, she could tell by the undisturbed peace of her bedchamber deep within the mountain of Crystal Peak that it had once again just been a nightmare. She wiped the tears from her eyes, wondering how much longer she would be able to go on like this. The bad dreams were getting worse, especially now with the elements of Terminators plaguing her as well along with the aliens – she was getting very afraid of going to sleep. And as always she was watching Ripley turning her back on her, leaving her behind. Newt tried to put that painful fact aside and focused instead on a mystery her dream had produced: how did the Terminators get ahold of her phone-number?

The robots had used it in attempt to locate her amid kids at her school, but since Bianca Horsepower had stolen her cellphone, it was she who took the shot. But the question remained how they had acquired the number – it was one she had never shared with her classmates since they were not her friends and the teachers kept that kind of information in encrypted files in their databanks. The answer was that her grandparents must have given the Terminators her number, but why would they have done that? They never gave personal information out to strangers, that was their own family-policy. Thinking that she would never learn the answer, Newt went out to the kitchen. She would never be able to sleep again now anyway, nor did she want to.

As she got to the kitchen she saw Hicks sitting at the table, doing something to a big disassembled gun with a soldering-iron. Newt winced a little involuntarily, remembering how the soldier had been the figure of a killer-robot in her dream. He looked up when he saw her come in.

"Newt? I thought you were still asleep, kiddo? Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said dismissively. Hicks could tell that this was not the case – she wasn't fine, but it was clear that she didn't want to talk about it. Therefore, he settled with the lie and didn't press it.

Newt threw the question back at him. "Weren't you supposed to catch some sleep as well?"

"I had an hour, that was adequate for me. I don't require much sleep," Hicks replied with a hint of a smile. It was the smile that told the girl that he was lying - she had the ability to see through false statements. Hicks hadn't slept at all – telling her that he would had obviously been a ruse to put her to bed without objections. She was going to tell him off about that later, but right now she was too distraught by her dream to give any it bigger thought.

"Where's Pops?" she asked instead.

"Still in the workshop. I figured it was better if I'd just let him tinker with that chip by himself, so I don't know how he's doing." He got up from his chair. "Well, since we're both up we might just as well replenish our energies. I'll prepare us some food." Newt didn't have much of an appetite, but she'd had a good deal experience of hunger and it was not a pleasant feeling, so she would eat anyway.

The food in this presidential bunker was very different from what she had back in her colony. It was like back there freeze-dried for it to survive an extended period of storage, but once it was processed it was much similar in quality like ordinary food. Newt couldn't help but to wonder why the high and mighty were to have better goods than the common people. She and Hicks were halfway through their meal consisting of sandwiches and tea when Pops came in. As usual his stale expression didn't give any hints of what was going through his mind.

"Any progress with the chip?" Hicks asked the newcomer. Newt opted for staying silent and letting the adults do the talking.

"Yes," Pops said. "I have successfully accessed the CPU and searched through the files."

Hicks put his sandwich down. "Well, what does it say?"

"Nothing! All files of the future have been erased!" Pops tossed the CPU on the table. "It's worthless!"

Hicks stared dumbfounded on the useless chip. "Erased? How did _that_ happen?"

"The Terminator himself must have done it. It knew it had lost, so to prevent information to fall into our hands, it corrupted its own files. All that's left is mostly just bits and pieces of non-essential information which is of no use to us. I find this troublesome; the brand of Terminators of this future is different than the ones I fought before. No Terminator has ever been able to self-terminate – yet this one did!"

"And tried to take us with it when it initiated the self-destruct," Hicks put in. "It failed to take our lives, but still managed to set us back greatly. We're still on square one as we have no idea what their agenda is! We don't even know where those other two Terminators are right now!"

Pops next words gave a bit of a surprise. "It appears that we don't have to worry about the other two Terminators for the time being. That is the only useful information I got out of the CPU."

"We don't? How come?"

"I don't know their exact locations, but one unit isn't directly involved in tracking the two of you down. It has a mission of its own, one I don't know anything about. The final unit isn't even on this world anymore, it caught a transport out into space."

"You're saying that a Terminator is currently _off-world_?!"

"Affirmative."

"Any idea why?"

"Yes! It has a lead on the third target who is off-world. It will attempt to intercept this person and terminate her."

"Her?" Hicks blurted out. "You're saying it's a _She!_ Who is it?"

"Does it matter?" Pops questioned.

"It certainly does if this woman is important enough for a Terminator to even go off-world to do its killing!" Hicks paused a short moment in thought. "I have a fleeting suspicion who this woman is – the only _logical_ one as she should have some kind of a connection to us! It's _Ellen Ripley_ , isn't it?"

" _SPRUUUTCHHH!_ " Newt had only listened with half an ear but as she heard what Hicks said, she reflexively spat out the tea she was drinking in shock. " _What?! Ripley?!_ "

"You know her?" Pops asked curiously, and that was the confirmation Hicks needed. " _Son of a bitch!_ " the soldier growled, smashing his fist on the table.

"Take manners of your language, Dwayne Hicks," Pops scolded. "There are children present!"

"This is _not_ a coincidence," Hicks spoke up loudly, ignoring the other's rebuke. "There's _more_ to this than us two being the descendants of Skynet's enemies – they seek to destroy those of us who survived LV-426 _!_ "

"Why would they want to do that?" Pops objected. "The destruction of that colony is of no relevance at all to Skynet! Nor are those creatures Newt Connor spoke of."

"Maybe it has something to do with Ripley being Newt's surrogate mother!" Hicks didn't see the expression of anguish in the child's face.

"There is too insufficient data to even speculate that possibility," was Pops' reply.

"Well, whatever the reason, the Terminators is after to kill her and we can't let that happen! We must get to her before they do! Did you find out where the machine is headed?"

"Negative. And even if I did it wouldn't make any difference. We will not go. Ellen Ripley is not a priority to my mission which is to ensure the safety of Newt Connor."

"Hey, _screw you_ , Tin Can!" Hicks rose from his chair. "If the Terminators seek to kill her, then she is _vital_ to the future! I'm telling you that we're going!"

"I am not programmed to follow your orders, Dwayne Hicks!"

"All right, if not mine… how about _hers?_ " He nodded sideways towards the girl. "You have an obligation to her family-line, therefore her voice carries greater weight than anyone else's does, isn't it so? What if _she_ says that we need to go?"

"But she doesn't!"

Hicks turned to the girl. "Tell him, Newt." But the girl's reply was not one Hicks had expected. Her eyes were tear-filled and her jaw trembled. "I… I can't!"

"Why not, Newt? What's the matter? Surely you want to see…"

"NO!" she cut him off. "Don't ask this of me! _Please!_ " And then she escaped the kitchen.

"I'll talk to her," Hicks told Pops, heading the same way the child had run off. "You stay put, tin man!"

"Dwayne Hicks!" Pops' voice was stern. "If you harm her either physically or emotionally to get her to see your way, the Terminators won't need to find you! I'll kill you myself!"

* * *

Hicks found Newt sitting against the podium in front of the presidential chair in the first chamber, sobbing. He sat down beside her without saying a word, giving her the chance to either acknowledge his presence or to give him a signal that she didn't want him around for the moment. As she after a minute had done neither, he took it as a sign that he was free to address her.

"I was not prepared for that reaction from you. I was certain that you wanted nothing more than to see Ripley again, but apparently I was wrong. What happened between you?"

Newt almost choked on her words. "She doesn't want to see me… she told me to stay away! She… she wants nothing to do with me! She said that she had done her mission to save me and then she just left!"

Hicks became very perplexed. "Did she tell you that?! To your face?"

Newt shook her head, biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "She sent a letter… right after we got to Earth… I never saw her." She sobbed again. "I thought she _liked_ me…"

"Newt. Look at me." Hicks put a finger under her jaw and gently turned her head facing his. "Until five days ago I was convinced that you and Ripley were dead. I was out cold by anesthetics and never saw you come back from the complex. A military officer I have never heard of used this to make me believe that you were lost."

"Why?"

"Because he didn't want me to look you up! I'm certain now that he was in fact an agent of the Company – _they_ didn't want me to look you up! The Company set this into operation as soon as we approached Earth – they separated all of us and obviously, they wanted to make sure that we would remain apart! Ripley didn't tell you to stay away to your face because those weren't Ripley's words! Newt, that letter was a _fake!_ "

The child looked at the adult with a shocked expression. "B-but… it's been a _year!_ If it was a fake, then why hasn't she tried to contact me?"

Hicks contemplated on this and came up with the only possible answer. "Because she can't! We just learned that she's off-world. She must be somewhere where she's incapable of making contact with Earth – and the Company is probably stopping her from doing that as well!"

Newt regarded Hicks' face as he said this. She had the ability to see through lies as easily as if looking through a pane of glass – but she saw no trace of lying in the man's face now. He genuinely believed that they all had been set up. "Do… do you think that… Ripley still cares about me?" she asked him.

The soldier smiled. "You didn't see her, honey. After you'd got stuck in that storm drain and then taken by that monster…Ripley went hysterical. She was about to go down that drain to go after you even though she would've drown hadn't I pulled her back, and that took every ounce of strength I had. There was no way she would leave the planet without you, kiddo. Despite that she was terrified of those creatures, she went down into their hive to get you out. She didn't do that for the sake of a mission, Newt. She went after you because she cared… she cared in the way only a mother would ever do. She loves you, Newt, with all her heart. I have no doubt about that."

Newt didn't know if she dared to believe it – yet she was beginning to feel a small sense of hope. What if it was all true and the Company had lied to her and all of them? If Ripley still cared, then Newt needed to find that out - and there was only one way to do that.

Hicks had risen to his feet and was now extending his hand towards her. "What do you say, honey? Shall we show the Company that we will not take part of their scheme anymore?" There was only a moment's hesitation, then she took the offered hand and allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet. Hand in hand they walked back to the kitchen where Pops were still waiting. Newt knew that she was the one who had to take the initiative.

"Pops. I think… we really need to go after Ripley." She was looking at the cyborg as she said this.

"Is this by your own conviction, Newt Connor? You weren't persuaded?"

"Hicks didn't do anything to me!" she was quick to say, knowing what her guardian was referring to. "I believe it is the right choice."

Pops noticed that the child was still looking at him as she said this. Had she instead looked away, Pops would've known that the change of mind wouldn't have been her doing and then he would indeed have killed the soldier. But now it was no longer necessary. "It is not a safe choice," he said. "I need to keep you away from the Terminators, not bring you close to them. It's too dangerous!"

"Pops," Newt said determinately. "We're going!"

"Go where?" Pops asked. "We don't know where she is."

"That's where you come in, tin man," Hicks said. "You as a Terminator know how to track somebody. Use the computers down here and find her files. You can probably hack into them."

"That is tactically dangerous! The other Terminators might anticipate this move and is monitoring any intrusion to Ellen Ripley's files! It will be traced back here, and then they will know where Newt Connor is!"

"Pops, this is the _presidential_ shelter! The president's safety is the main function of this bunker to prevent any enemy to find him, which means that these military computers have the latest and most sophisticated firewall known to this world! The IP-numbers are even shielded and the search-motor is routed through another secure and heavily protected server which won't allow any outside signal to go back here. _Nothing_ can be traced back here!"

Pops said nothing more. He went up to a computer terminal, booted it up and set to work. It took a while of intensive typing on the keyboard, but finally the cyborg announced that he had accessed the required data.

"Ellen Ripley," Pops read out loud. "Lieutenant, First class, Number five-one-five-six-one-seven-zero, current service-number #2179-12004 aboard the _P.C. Cerberus…"_

" **P.C.**?!" Hicks burst out. "As in _Penal Cruiser_?! She's a _prisoner?!_ "

"Sentenced for life for destroying a colony on LV-426, guilty of murdering 158 residents of said colony and a company of marine soldiers."

"Those _bastards_ , they shifted the blame onto _her!_ " Hicks raged. Newt looked ready to cry again.

Pops continued. " _P.C. Cerberus_ is currently heading for the orbital station Sevastopol II to unload supplies. _That's_ where the Terminator is headed!"

"I know it! It's over the gas giant KG348, in the _Zeta Reticuli_ region of all places! Funny how everything seems to be centered in that particular star system! Zeta 2 Reticuli is the one consisting LV-426 where the bugs were found!

"It took three weeks to get to LV-426," Hicks continued. "however KG348 is closer. With the _Ghost Rider_ and its FTL-drive we should be able to get there in eight days…"

"That's cutting it close," Pops said. "The _P.C. Cerberus_ is scheduled to dock there at that time as well – and the Terminator will already be there waiting as it got a head-start."

"Can we get there in time?" Newt asked.

Hicks had a resolute expression on his face. "We _must_ get there in time! Let's not waste any of it! Let's go!"


	24. Sevastopol II

Another extended delay. Sorry for the wait, but life isn't good to me right now - I won't bother you with any details. Now, I hope you forgive me for using references to events of the game Alien Isolation in this chapter. I'm sure not everybody is familiar with it, so I've attempted to use it as sparingly as possible. It won't affect the story much anyway – using Sevastopol is just for the fun of it.

On with the story…

* * *

Sevastopol II was deliberately named after its predecessor – it was the Company's way of saying that they always honored a contract. The first Sevastopol Station was a freeport and commercial station established over the gas giant of KG348 as an attempt to win ground of the "space race" in the early 22:ond century as mankind was starting to spread all over the cosmos. The station never managed to capture a flight path back then though and after years of disinterest and mismanagement, the first station became scheduled for decommission. However, an unforeseen incident in the year 2137 made the former owners to quickly put the station out on sale, the circumstances for that panicked action was kept in secret.

It was the Weyland-Yutani Company who purchased Sevastopol and they knew perfectly well why the station was out on a quick sell – in fact the very reason for the sell was why the Company bought it: there was an alien loose on the station, having already killed most of the residents. After the failed attempt to capture a specimen with the help of the deep space commercial tug _Nostromo_ in the year 2122, the Company saw a new chance with the creature loose on Sevastopol. Hadn't it been for the interference of a young woman, they might have succeeded. But the first Sevastopol station was destroyed, and the alien with it. The whole incident was made classified on the highest level.

Weyland-Yutani Company was not one to make a purchase to just lose all the money spent on it. The original plan for the station was to establish a space port for commercial flights, maintenance and trades, but no flight path to it was made. The Company therefore simply drew a flight path through KG348 and they put up a new and better station there ten years later – they needed an intermediate port for the planetary colonization program. As new colonies were started, the Sevastopol II served as a relay-station for deep space communications sent between the colonies and the home-world, so ironically the new station had become an important key-point, just as the former owners to the first one had originally intended.

Ellen Ripley was not at all interested in the history of the two Sevastopol stations (the history that was made for the public) - to her and her fellow prisoners onboard the _P.C. Cerberus_ it was just the next stop for their penal labor. It was here they were to unload the supplies they had picked up earlier. Some of those crates would be further distributed to other directions of the galaxy, but most of them were for the station itself as it was undergoing some upgrades and refurbishment. The first Sevastopol had been a near twin to the ponderous coasting bulk of the refinery platform the _Nostromo_ had tugged fifty-eight years earlier – Sevastopol II carried a reminder of the predecessor, but not by much, so Ripley did not feel any kind of nostalgic feeling towards the station as she looked at it through the viewport of her and the other prisoners holding cell. Had she known what had transpired on the first station forty-three years earlier and who had been involved in foiling the Company's plans for obtaining the rampaging alien, she would have felt differently.

As expected, the ship's captain and 'warden' Mr. Cinch's voiced suddenly boomed out of the cell's internal speakers. "All right, you scumbags, listen up:" his authorizing and mocking tone rang in the prisoners' ears. "We're about to dock at Sevastopol. As soon as the door opens, I want you to proceed to your designated workstations immediately! The cargo is to be quickly unloaded and properly handled if you are to get any supper! The controllers of Sevastopol are kind enough to let you dine here on the station's own holding facility once we're done with the task, which is more then you lot deserve! But if any of you get the idea to deviate from the designated areas you're allowed to occupy, I will leave you to rot here! Sevastopol got its own security force and they are not as kind to prisoners as I am. So be on your best behavior unless you want to be left behind! That is all!" You'd expect the prisoners to grown over the rough statement given to them, but none of them did. They were used to Cinch's harsh tone by now, as well as they all knew that the warden's threat to leave them behind if any of them misbehaved was genuine. Sevastopol did indeed have a reputation of administrating a rougher treatment of prisoners and none was eager to experience it.

* * *

The security commander of Sevastopol II greeted the crew of the Cerberus. Major Winters was a big man, muscular and with an aura of a cold attitude. His hair was as white as snow, the pale blue eyes were like ice and he had a deep voice that would chill the bones of another man. The only warmth he radiated was from the weak ember of his regularly lit cigar.

"You surprise me, Cinch," Major Winters said coldly, exhaling smoke into the air. "I actually expected you to be late!"

"I don't allow any of my prisoners to be lax, Major," the warden said, standing his ground. "If a job needs to be done in time, I make them do it!"

"Now that's what I like of man, Cinch – discipline before sloppiness! Lowlifes like those don't deserve better!" Winters and Cinch both shared the opinion that if somebody broke the law, you'd lose all civil rights mankind had ever implied that you had. Lawbreakers should be left hanging from their thumbs and whipped, but the legal system prevented him from doing so most of the time. That was why he had taken the position here at Sevastopol – legal systems did not usually have complete supervision out here in space, so reports of prisoners having been manhandled under Winter's care was hard to confirm. To Winter's displeasure though, while there was no legal supervisor on the station to watch his actions, there was currently a humanitarian obstacle present which prevented him from administrating a more disciplinary course to these prisoners – there was a priest aboard Sevastopol.

Winters couldn't for the world imagine what a man of a church had for business on a remote space-station and the priest hadn't been forthcoming to tell him. But holy men still had certain privileges even to this day, (like coming or leaving without having to go through customs and X-rays,) so Winters had reluctantly left the priest to mind his own business. Besides, should it come to his superiors' attention that a man of a church had been mistreated under his rule, Winter's career would be instantly flushed down the drain. It was also because of the priest's presence that Winters had agreed to let the prisoners aboard the _Cerberus_ dine at the station when their work was done. A priest's voice carried farther than any politician's word did, and Winters did not want to risk having any people of certain agency's coming to his station and snoop into his work because a humanitarian might find his treating of prisoners to be unjust! So, let the scumbags have some lunch – it was a small price to pay for continuing peace and quiet!

The warden and captain of the penal cruiser directed the unloading while the commander of security supervised the work. Winters chewed on the stub of his cigar and looked suspiciously over at one specific prisoner.

"I take back some of the praise I gave you earlier, Cinch," Winters said to the other. "Can't be much discipline in you since you allow a _broad_ to handle an expensive loader!"

Cinch looked uncomfortable. "Well… she happens to be the best onboard… a class two-rating in her civilian life…"

Winters snorted. "There are things I sure wouldn't trust a woman with! So what's she in for?"

"She's a mass-murderer and a loony," Cinch answered unemotionally. "Blew up a colony with sixty, maybe seventy families and a company of marines… blames it all on a mutant bug!"

"See what I mean with not trusting a woman?" the security commander snickered just as his communicator hanging from his belt began beeping. He unclasped it and brought it to his mouth as he hit the answer button. "What is it?"

"Sir," a voice in the radio said. "We have an unscheduled approach! Unidentified craft coming in from sector three-two-seven!"

"Have you established contact on the long-range transmitter?"

"Negative, Sir! All we get is static."

"What's it's E.T.A.?"

"It will enter our outer perimeter in twelve minutes unless it withdraws."

"Put the outer defense systems on stand-by! I'm on my way!" Winters hung the radio back to his belt and after giving Cinch special instructions that it was his responsibility to keep the tabs on the prisoners, he left the hangar. On his way to the traffic-control tower, Winters came to cross path with the mysterious priest whose business on Sevastopol was still unclear.

"Major…" the priest addressed him.

"Begging your pardon, father, but I have urgent business." Winters said to quickly get away from the man of the church. The priest however would not be so easily dismissed.

"Am I correct in thinking that a prisoner transport has docked to the station?" the priest asked.

"What if it has?" Winters asked suspiciously.

"Could you arrange a meeting with them for me? The church has a program of mercy and prison reform and perhaps I could offer them to listen to some tracts…"

"Out of the question, father! Those prisoners are some of the worst scum in the cosmos and cannot be reformed! You'd be wasting your time!"

"We don't believe that anybody is beyond help, Major!" the priest patiently insisted. "Everybody deserves a second chance no matter how dark his deeds."

"That may be so, but I won't risk life and limbs of civilians onboard Sevastopol while I'm in command of security here! The Prisoners won't come anywhere near this part of the station! Now if you'll excuse me, father, I have other matters to attend to!" Winters was fuming with rage. The last thing he needed on his desk right now was Samaritan bullshit! But he supposed that explained what the priest's business on Sevastopol were. When Major Winters reached the tower, he asked for an update on the status of the approaching ship as soon as he entered through the door.

"We don't have an identity yet, Sir," the controller said. "but we do have information on the type of ship it is! It's military – an UD-4L Cheyenne landing craft!"

"A dropship?! Out here?!" Winters' jaw almost dropped. "A craft that small shouldn't be able to get this deep into space on its own! Sensors detect no cruisers on the outer perimeters?"

"Nothing, Sir. All routes are devoid of any drive activity save for that one."

"Life signs?"

"I can't make that out. Sensors appear to be somewhat confused – must be some kind of interference! But there must be someone aboard as it approaches on a clear route straight for us!"

"Call them!" Winters ordered.

"But I just tried to call…"

"Call them again!" the major almost roared. "And make sure to keep all weapons trained on them in case this is some kind of trick! In fact: let them know that!"

* * *

Aboard the approaching dropship there was a tension of its own going on.

"You're playing it awfully close, Dwayne Hicks," Pops pointed out.

"I need to make them think that we are in despair," the corporal said from the pilot's chair. "Any regular military craft would already have announced their presence with the proper identity and their flight-plan. I don't want to give away too much information about us until it is too late for them to decline our approach." Hicks knew that the controllers would be confused now seeing a dropship heading towards them. Since the _Ghost Rider_ was a classified experimental long-distance ship, it was a ludicrous idea for the personal aboard Sevastopol to even consider thinking that the unscheduled craft had in fact just spent eight days to travel from Earth to this part of the galaxy as it was equipped with a small version of a Faster Than Light-drive complete with cryo-pods. It was an advantage for the people aboard the _Ghost Rider_ that the ship was classified – that meant that hopefully no one in the outer regions of space would know yet that the dropship was in fact stolen!

The radio sparkled to life again. They had no problem receiving radio signals, but Hicks was pretending that the long-range transmitter was out. But now they were close enough for even the short-range transmitter to receive signals, which announced that it was time to take the bluff to the next stage.

" _Attention, approaching craft!_ " the voice in the radio said, now much more annoyed and impatient than before. " _We have you in our screens. Identify yourself. Failing in compliance will result in your ship being destroyed! Our arms defenses are tracking you as we speak! Identify yourself! Over!_ "

"They threaten to blow us out of the sky, Dwayne Hicks." Although Pops didn't sound so upset about that concept, Hicks knew that the cyborg was concerned for Newt's safety. The corporal had no intention of letting it go that far however – he was fiddling with the controls on the radio to disrupt the clear signal. When he spoke into the microphone, he knew that the controller would receive mumbling words together with static.

"Sevastopol control!" Hicks spoke into the mike. "Hold your fire! This is corporal Michael Reese in the dropship _Gaijin_! We're in need of aid. Request permission to dock! Over."

" _Approaching ship, your transmission was unclear. Please say again! Over!_ " Hicks repeated his line, knowing that the closer they got, the clearer the signal would be. The response came quickly back. " _Dropship Gaijin, what is the nature of your emergency? Over._ "

"Control, this is the _Gaijin_. We've been damaged by an ion storm which separated us from the mothership. The storm knocked out most of our systems including long range communications. We had to cannibalize what we had to temporary maintain life-support and navigation. We are not able to go anywhere else. Please allow us to dock! Over."

" _Gaijin, what is your crew complement? Over._ "

"Three! Besides myself, there are two civilians. One adult and one child."

" _Stand by, Gaijin…_ " The radio went temporarily dead.

"You didn't give them your real name," Pops pointed out.

"Of course not," Hicks said. "Sevastopol is under Company control, I won't risk our names raising any alarms! Which means that you need to be incognito as well!" Hicks turned in his seat to face Newt who stood silently leaning against a console of the cockpit. "How would you like to be named 'Caroline' while we're here, kiddo? If someone asks, your name is Caroline Connor. You okay with that?" The child only shrugged, but Hicks knew that she understood her instructions. She knew perfectly well that discretion was necessary during the circumstances. "Pops, you be her uncle Bob!" the corporal said shortly as he turned back in his seat.

"Uncle Bob?" Pops questioned bewildered.

The radio came to life again. " _Dropship Gaijin; permission granted to dock in bay 16. Follow your present course._ "

"Thank you, Control," Hicks said, feigning relief into the mike.

" _Be advised, Corporal Reese, we are not happy about this incursion of our schedule! You will not bring any kind of weapons aboard this station and the civilian passengers are to report to the infirmary upon arrival. After that they are only allowed on the areas designated for civilian use, is that understood?"_

"Understood, Control."

" _You are to report to Major Winters immediately after you've docked. Control out!_ " The radio went dead.

"I heard they were slightly touchy here at Sevastopol, but they must've meant quite tetchy," Hicks grumbled.

"Going in without weapons is not an option," Pops shot in. "The Terminator who is looking for Ellen Ripley will have armed itself."

"Any idea you have to bring in weapons undetected, don't keep it to yourself," Hicks said.

"Keeping it to myself is the only way to do it," Pops said cryptically. "Watch." The cyborg took a shotgun he had picked from the armory onboard the _Ghost Rider_. Pops detached the barrel from the trigger mechanism and now he stood with two pieces – one in each hand. The sides of his thighs suddenly seemed to rupture in silver and the poly-alloy flowed apart, forming crevices in his thighs all the way down to the metal endo-skeleton the liquid metal covered. Pops inserted the two pieces of the weapon into the silvery crevices in his upper legs and then the poly-alloy flowed back again, encasing the split weapon within. The weapon was now hidden on his person- literally!

"You know, their metal-detectors will still discover that," Hicks pointed out.

"I am all metal – they're bound to think it is a mal-function."

"Perhaps," Hicks said, not entirely convinced. He turned back facing the view ahead as Sevastopol II filled out the windshield increasingly. "Drat!" he suddenly said. "I had hoped we would've gotten here before the _Cerberus_ , but it's already here!"

"Then it may be already too late," Pops said with his flat voice. "The Terminator may already have zeroed in on his target and killed her."

"No!" Hicks said. "Should a murder have occurred, the station would already be under lockdown – nobody would be allowed to come and go until the killer is apprehended! No, Ripley's still alive!"

"That may not be for much longer. The Terminator is searching for her even now."

"Which is why we must find her first!" Hicks said sternly, annoyed with the cyborg's negativism. "That will be your job – I have to stall this Major Winters. I've got a cover-story prepared for him. But listen, we're not here to start a fight! We need to remain inconspicuous, so do not open fire on anyone unless it is _absolutely_ necessary! Your first priority is to find her before the Terminator does, not to break her out. Remember that Ripley is a prisoner, so we wouldn't be allowed to talk with her anyway. You get what I'm saying, tin man? Just find her – we'll apprise the situation afterwards."

"Affirmative!" was Pops reply.

"Newt, I would've preferred you staying with me and allow Pops to do the search alone, but the people here will not want you around the personal sections. Therefore, I want you to stick to Pops always – do _not_ wander off on your own. Will you do that, honey?"

"Affirmative," Newt said quietly with her eyes glued to the station as they got closer. Her anxiety was growing the closer they got. Ripley was aboard this station and Newt couldn't help but to wonder if their reunion would be a happy one or a rebuke?


	25. Infiltration

Note: This is an updated chapter! The first upload has been deleted.

* * *

When the _Ghost Rider_ touched down on the deck of Sevastopol and the passengers disembarked, a couple of security men dressed in special designed uniforms greeted them. It was all standard procedure – as new arrivals they needed to be searched. Yet Hicks couldn't help to wonder how the heck they were going to get Pops passed the security check! Right now it seemed like a really bad idea to have brought him along, but the cyborg refused to leave Newt's side for an extended period of time. One of the men started to frisk the corporal by sweeping a hand-held metal detector over his body. He came out clean.

"Major Winters wants to see you immediately," the guard said in a flat cold tone.

"As soon as I see that my companions are treated properly," Hicks said. "We've been through a lot together."

"You don't need to worry about that," the guard said impatiently. "They will be well taken care of!" It seemed ludicrous to scan the child, but it was procedure that needed to be followed during the circumstances. As expected there was nothing out of the ordinary with her – the problem started when the guards brought the detector close to the old man. A signal was activated the instant it was held right before his face.

"What the hell is this?" the guard said perplexed.

"Problems?" Pops asked calmly.

"You're not a synthetic, are you?" the guard asked, a question that was quite unnecessary. A synthetic person was not compiled of any metal substances – they were all designed to be an artificial duplicate of a biological human to the greatest extent as they could make.

"No," Pops said unconcerned. "but I'm a war veteran, and I've had my fair share of injuries during my service. There's a metal plate in my skull after a hovercraft crash and many of my bones have been reinforced with titanium pins. A large part of my ribcage and hips have also been replaced."

"It's a wonder you're still alive, pal," the guard said, frowning. Hicks had trouble to keep himself from laughing. So the cyborg had a cover-story of his own – it shouldn't have come as a surprise since Terminators were infiltration units.

"Better have the Doc do the check on this one," one of the other men said. "They are to be taken there anyway. You do that while I bring Corporal Reese to major Winters." The guard nodded and motioned for Pops and Newt to follow him.

"You be good now, Caroline," Hicks said after them as he followed the other man. It was said as a reminder that they were not to reveal their true names to anybody while they were on Sevastopol. The girl threw him a petulant look anyway.

"So what war were you in, Old-timer?" the security man asked as he led the two civilians to the infirmary.

"That is classified!" was Pops' simple reply.

"Classified?" the guard questioned. "I never head of a war to be classified. Unless you were involved in the Black Ops!"

"You're asking questions you should know better than to ask, son."

"I'm just finding this whole thing peculiar," the guard continued. "If you've been in the service with the Black Ops, then why is it not _you_ seeing Major Winters now instead of that grunt?"

"I never said I was in the Black Ops. That was your assumption!"

"So why can't you tell me then what war you were in…" The guard halted and spun around. "…unless you are _hiding_ something?" The guard looked at Pops sternly. "Are you a deserter? Or perhaps a _spy_? Maybe I should put you in the _stockade_ instead of taking you to the infirmary?" The guard was reaching for his radio hanging on his belt.

"You should know to mind your own business," Pops said flatly. Then in a movement so fast that Newt didn't have time to see it, the cyborg slugged the guard and he slumped to the deck out cold.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" the child asked.

"No," Pops said as he picked the unconscious form up. "but he won't wake up for a day or so. My fist isn't like the soft texture of your bones." Newt could see it. The guard looked like he had been hit in the face by a pile-driver. Pops took a moment to scan the design of the uniform the guard was wearing – then with the help of is poly-mimetic alloy, he changed his own clothing to match that of the guard's. "This will help us to infiltrate the people onboard this station."

"What about him?" Newt asked, indicating to the unconscious guard.

"What about him?" Pops questioned. The child gave him a stern look.

A moment later the infirmary of Sevastopol II was visited by a big guard carrying another. The nurse in there rose in alarm from her chair. "What happened?" she asked.

"An accident," the big guard explained. "He was running to his station when he slipped on the deck and fell head-long into a console in one of the corridors. It's a one-in-a-million freak accident." The big man put the unconscious form on a bed.

"God damn," the nurse said as she saw the swollen face. "That's going to leave a mark."

"Will you take care of him? I'm late for my shift."

"Yes, of course. We'll take it from here. I'll call for the doctor immediately."

"Thank you, Nurse," the man said and turned to leave.

"Hey!" the nurse suddenly called after him. "Weren't we supposed to receive two civilians who'd just arrived?" But the big guard had already left the infirmary. Outside in the corridor Pops rejoined Newt who had stood out of sight.

"Satisfied?" he asked her and the girl nodded. She did not like the idea to leave a wounded man behind without giving him proper treatment. People may have treated her badly in the past, but she was not going to sink to their level.

* * *

Sevastopol II was much more grandeur than its predecessor. As it was a gathering point for travelling ships, the station was built to acknowledge the interests for what visitors mostly sought during the stop. The station was designed simply: it was mainly a circular disc in the middle with three oversized cone-shaped towers attached to the sides. Two sets of 'cones' made one tower: one spire pointing up and one spire pointing down. One of those towers was reserved for the civilian section of Sevastopol and the whole structure was like a shopping mall with several shops of different kinds and many restaurants. As the Tower resembled a tall pointy spire, the floors within were more described as levels. The main floor was in the middle as it was part of the 'center-disc' of the station and then there was seven additional levels up and another seven down. Each of those platform levels faced the outer wall which was one gigantic window where you had a spectacular view over the gas giant of KG348. This was the main reason weapons were forbidden on the station. If a ballistic projectile would hit the window, it could result in a humongous disaster. The other two towers were reserved for functional use. One or those were for storage and temporary space for traveling goods. The third Tower was for the personnel of Sevastopol: offices, habitats, and infirmary – it also had a brig. The main disc in the middle was where the space-hangars were located.

To avoid detection, Pops and Newt had to go out into the civilian tower. Pops may have branded himself with a likeness of the Sevastopol uniform, but in a station where every permanent resident would most likely know his other colleagues, Pops' face would give him away instantly. It was only by sheer luck that the nurse had been so busy examining her patient that she had failed to look more closely at the one who had brought the guard in. The civilian space-travelers visiting the station on the other hand shouldn't be so familiar with Sevastopol's guards, so there was a bigger chance that Pops could move around a little more inconspicuously here. For a station that worked as an intermediate platform for travelling ships, it was surprisingly crowded. The fact that it was wasn't in the pair's favor as it meant that they had more faces to search.

Pops was actually not looking for Ellen Ripley – he knew that she would not be in this section. As she was a prisoner, she would be in the tower that was used for storage to unload the ship. Pops was looking for the _other_ Terminator whom had bigger reason to bide his time here. As an infiltration unit, it too needed to remain inconspicuous to not be compromised until it had located its target, and the best way to do that was to hide among other people. Pops' logic was simple: find the Terminator and either let it lead Pops to Ellen Ripley, or find a way to dispose of it before it could finish its mission. Pops had not told Newt any of this though, _she_ was in fact frantically looking for Ripley. Pops' intention was to identify the Terminator that was hidden here somewhere and then he would find a spot to put the child away from the prying sensors of the other. He would then tell Newt to wait there until Ripley would come by, (it would be a lie, something she would not be happy about - but it was better than risking her life,) and then Pops would deal with the Terminator somehow.

" _Your attention, please_ ," a female voice called over the PA-system. " _The Piper Maru is scheduled for departure at 14 hundred hours from docking bay Four. All passengers for the Piper Maru, please proceed to docking bay Four!_ "

"Where do you think she could be?" Newt asked, rightly ignorant to the message on the PA-system as it was of no concern to them. She was both anxious and afraid. Anxious for the prospect of seeing Ripley again and afraid that she was going to be rejected. Her insecurity was unfortunately the dominating force within her right now after her year of mistreatment from her grandparents and fellow classmates. Even though Hicks had decreed that the letter sent to her was a lie, Newt was terrified that there had been a truth to it. What if Ripley really didn't want anything to do with her? What then would she do? She knew she would never be able to handle a rejection, so she was considering that maybe it was better to leave it all behind and keep the dream of how it could have been. But that sort of fantasy would also be a burden that would make her feel unhappy. She was in for losing either way.

"We will need to conduct a systematic search," Pops said answering her question. "We should therefore start on the top floor and work our way down." Pops' real plan with that was that from the top level he could get a vast oversight of the tower. He would use his sensors on a long-distance mode to scan as far down he could and maybe catch sight of the Terminator. His advanced sensors could easily identify another Terminator no matter what appearance or disguise it had. It was also a good place to leave the girl to keep her out of harm. Spotting the elevator tube, he led his protégée to that direction.

* * *

The prisoners of the Penal Cruiser _Cerberus_ were at that moment sitting down eating the lunch that the personnel of Sevastopol had been gracious enough to provide them. They were still in Tower Two which was designated for travelling goods – there was no way either the personnel of Sevastopol nor civilians would want convicts in their presence in one of the restaurants at Tower Three. The prisoners ate in silence – while it was a good opportunity among common people to share stories or just enjoying others company at the table, these people had no reason to enjoy anything. They were all there because their own actions had put them in this predicament and it was nothing to speak loudly about. The only thing they shared was that they all felt tired after their labor and that was nothing anybody felt like whining about, because there would be no sympathy given. Do your work and shut up, that was the silent rule. Accept privileges when it was given, but don't expect it to become a habit; that was the truth they had to live by. Complaining wouldn't change anything.

Ellen Ripley hated this life, and why wouldn't she? She didn't know the stories of her fellow prisoners who usually all claimed that they had been set up, but _she_ really had been framed. The Company had put all the blame of the disasters concerning the Xenomorphs on her shoulders to save their own worthless hides, but no one was willing to listen to her side of the story. Her only way out of this was to act on her good behavior. Once this current penal tour was over and they would go back to their permanent prison facility until the next trip out, Ripley had every intention on calling her lawyer. It had been a year now since her incarceration and her service record was spot clean. She had the right to have her case reopened and to at least request to be transferred to an open institution where she would be allowed to write letters. Of course, she knew that that would never happen. The Company wanted her out of the grid so that she could not spread her words to anyone else and they would make sure that she would remain there. But she would gain nothing if she didn't at least try. Eventually someone would have to look at her case and raise questions – a faint hope, but a possibility she had to grasp.

" _Your attention, please_ ," the PA-system came to life again. " _Last call for passengers to embark the Piper Maru. Please proceed to docking bay Four immediately!_ "

"Bet you lot wish you could board it, don't you?" the ship's captain and 'warden' Mr. Cinch mocked the interns. Some of the prisoners made grimaces, but said nothing. "But that's a no-no for you! You lot belong to the _Cerberus_ – for a looong time!" Cinch snickered. He enjoyed pushing down the morale of his prisoners. In fact he dared them, sometimes even provoked them to stage a revolt, but no one was stupid enough to do that. Things would only get worse if they did.

"A _ttention, Sevastopol docking crew. Prepare docking bay thirteen for next ship's departure at fourteen twenty. Please report to docking bay thirteen."_

"Did you hear that?" Cinch said. "That's us she was referring to. We'll be leaving in twenty minutes, so eat up! I want you lot back aboard in ten! The one who falls behind will be left here and I assure you; Major Winters won't be as kind to you as I am." Many of the prisoners bit back a remark on how Cinch treated them, but it was hard to do so. About all of them rose and took their dishes to place those back on the carriage that was to be rolled back to the kitchen.

"A _ttention, Commander Cohoe!"_ the PA was heard again. " _Please report to the infirmary. Repeat: Commander Cohoe to the infirmary!"_

"Sounds like they got a busy day here," one of the guards of _Cerberus_ said in passing. There were only some shrugs in response from the others. They were all preparing to walk back to the ship when another message came through.

"A _ttention: Ellen Ripley! Please head for the main entrance of Tower Three, civilian section. Repeat: Ellen Ripley to main entrance of Tower Three where company awaits!"_

Ripley stopped in her tracks as she couldn't believe her ears. Someone was paging _her_? _Here?_ Who would know that she was here and what kind of company would that be? Mr. Cinch seemed to wonder the same thing as he rushed up, grabbing her arm, and spun her around to face him.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he barked into her face.

Ripley stammered. "I… I swear… I have no idea…"

"You got a message out somehow!" Cinch roared. "You arranged for some accomplices to come here to break you out!"

"NO!" Ripley protested. "There's no way that I could've…"

Cinch wasn't listening to her protests. "Well, they didn't know how to find you, so they foolishly paged you on an open system, foiling your plans!"

" _This is not my doing!_ "

"Well, miss Ripley… why don't we just go there? Let's see who it is whose calling for you – and then I will have them _arrested_ for attempting jailbreaking! That will make major Winters' day! Let's go!"

* * *

Newt and Pops where at this moment on the top-level of the cone-shaped Tower. Pops was leaning over the railing, scanning the floors that was positioned like stairs beneath them all the way down to the center. It wasn't really much space available to scan, but it was a good start. He could not get a reading of the levels beneath the center floor though as it was cone-shaped the other way downwards – those levels had to be searched one by one. His initial scan came up empty and he was about to tell Newt that they would move down to the next floor when they heard the call on the PA-system.

"Pops!" Newt gasped out before she remembered that they were incognito. "Err… Uncle Bob! Did you hear that?"

"Yes!" the cyborg said simply. But he looked a bit annoyed. "And that was a _stupid_ move! Michael Reese must have made that call – he should have known better if he wanted discretion!"

"Why's that?" the girl asked.

"Because the Terminator will have heard it too. All he has to do is to go there and then he will have them both in his sights and terminate them!"

"We have to go back down there!"

"Correction: _I_ will go back down there. You will remain here, Caroline Connor!" The cyborg marched back to the elevator tube. The car was fortunately still waiting.

"But Pops…" Newt objected, taking a few steps after him.

" _Remain here!_ " he said more firmly as he stepped into the car and the elevator doors closed, taking the cyborg back down to the center.

 _Remain here?_ The cyborg couldn't understand what that meant to Newt. The last time she had been told to stay put somewhere was on that faithful day on LV-426 when her family had gone out into the unexplored grounds and discovered that accursed alien ship. She and her brother had been told to stay in the tractor while her parents had gone inside and that had been one of the worst waits in her life, especially since it had resulted in her father getting that horrible thing on his face. That had led to his death and then those hideous monsters had overrun her colony, killing everyone, and left her all alone. Newt couldn't stand waiting in situations where she didn't know the outcome after that – it gave her a massive dose of jittery. She had always felt bad because there had been nothing she could've done to save her family, but if there was some way she could save Ripley, then she _had_ to do it. She spotted a staircase at the far corner of the platform, and it was to those she now rushed. Pops' orders be damned!

* * *

Cinch and Ripley did just then step out onto the main platform of Tower Three, the warden holding the woman's elbow in a steady grip. Cinch looked around to see if there were anybody there who seemed to take a special interest to the pair. There was none at first sight.

"So where are your accomplices, then?" the warden spat.

"I'm telling you," Ripley began. "I don't know anybody here…"

"Don't act innocent, doll! Somebody paged for you, hence somebody knew that you would be here! And I want to know who it is so that I can plug this leak you obviously managed to get messages out through! You're in deep enough shit as it is, doll, so why don't you just tell me who's the familiar face here is?"

" _I did not send any messages!_ " Ripley persisted.

"The lady speaks the truth." Both warden and prisoner turned to the speaker, and they were both surprised. "It was by my own choice that I paged for this woman. Please forgive me if I caused any confusion."

The warden had totally lost his composure. "I… Who are you?"

The newcomer smiled. "I'm Father Patrick of the Oregon concretion. I was just stopping by at this station while I'm waiting for my transit back to Earth when I saw the prisoner transport coming in."

"You're not looking for a ride, are you?" Cinch asked incredulously.

The priest smiled again. "No. But my church has a program of mercy and prison reform and I felt I couldn't just let your ship pass by without me interviewing at least one of your inmates. I took the liberty of having a look at your crew manifest and this young lady's name kind of stood out from the rest, that's why I picked her."

"Father, this woman is a _mass-murderer!_ " Cinch started to object. "She _destroyed_ a colony…"

"Her deeds are dark and yet I pray that there is a chance to save her soul. I was therefore hoping to take some of this lady's time to listen to some tracts? I hope to make her want to see a new light and be willing to rectify her wrongdoings."

"Absolutely not, Father." Cinch said. "She would not…"

"Actually…" Ripley cut in. "I'd like to take you up on your offer, Father."

Cinch was shocked. "You… you _would_?"

"I wish to save my soul."

"Oh, it makes me so happy to hear you say that." Father Patrick said. "Shall we find a secluded spot?"

"Now, _wait_ a minute…!" the warden objected. "This is unregularly…"

"Surely you wouldn't want to stand in the way of the church's work, my good man? Isn't it our common duty to rehabilitate the prisoners back into society?"

"No Father, I just…" Cinch looked really lost. "Look, we are scheduled to leave in fifteen minutes. I need her back aboard in ten!"

"I need no more," The priest said.

Cinch surrendered. "All right then… I'll be back here to pick her up in ten." And with that he left, leaving Ripley with the priest.

"Shall we?" Father Patrick asked, gently taking her arm to lead her away.

"I fear you've put me in a tight spot, Father," Ripley said. "Cinch will not forget this."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him," the priest said as they walked away from the populated areas. Strange, Ripley thought. She had a funny feeling in her gut, like she was doing a mistake.

"You really are heading back to Earth?" she asked.

"When I'm finished here, yes. Why do you ask?"

"You see, Father… I agreed to listen to one of your tracts because I was wondering if I could ask a very big favor of you…"

* * *

The players of the recent scene had all left the platform when Pops stepped out of the elevator. He looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He was calculating on his next course of action when Hicks came barging into the civilian section. He was fuming. "BOB!" he barked when he saw the cyborg.

"That was very unwise, Corporal!" Pops said in return.

"What are you talking about?" Hicks asked in a heated voice. "I was just about to ask you what _you_ were thinking? Why did you page for Ripley? I said we were going to do this discreetly _!_ "

Pops looked at the other curiously. "I didn't do it. I thought _you_ did!"

" _Me?_ Why would I…?"

"Then it was the _Terminator!_ " Pops concluded.

" _Shit!_ " Hicks looked around. "Well, she's not here…"

"And neither is the Terminator! And he would be unless he has already acquired his target!"

"Acquired how? She would've struggled, but no one here seems to be alarmed of a commotion…"

"Which means that no struggle occurred," Pops stated.

"You say she went with him _willingly?_ "

"Don't underestimate a Terminator's infiltration skills, Corporal! If he knows what we know, then he knows he can't kill Ellen Ripley in the open as a committed murder will put the station under complete lockdown until the perpetrator is apprehended. His best chance to escape back to Earth is to do the deed in a secluded spot without any witnesses and hide the body."

"Then he must've taken her to the corner of the platform! Those areas are usually devoid of people!"

"We don't have much time!" Pops let his poly-alloy around his thighs flow and from the sides of his upper legs, two objects suddenly protruded from his trousers. He took a firm grip on each of them with his hands and pulled them out from the liquid mass with a soaking sound. In one swift motion, he connected the two objects and reassembled the shotgun he had taken from the _Ghost Rider_. People around them had already looked at them strangely as the two had voiced a strange conversation about killings and witnesses – but now as the big man dressed as a guard of Sevastopol pulled a big gun out from his legs, their curiosity suddenly changed into a panic. The civilians ran away in panic screaming incomprehensively about armed men and killers while the corporal and the fake guard ran ahead along the platform.

"Where's Ne… err, Caroline?" the soldier asked as they ran through the crowd.

"On a safe spot!" was the other's reply. But Hicks couldn't help to wonder if she would stay there, wherever this safe spot were.

* * *

"Rebecca Jorden?" the priest asked.

"Yes," Ripley confirmed. She didn't use the child's nickname as it wouldn't be that on any records of her. "I have absolutely no idea what happened to her since I was arrested. Father, if you could find her and pass on a message to her from me, I would be eternally grateful!"

The priest seemed to consider this as they walked. This part of the platform did not have frequent visitors as it was on the side of the gigantic window which faced the gas giant of KG348. There wasn't much to see from this spot.

"If I would find her, what is it you want me to tell her?"

Ripley shut her eyes as she walked, composing herself. The priest could see that this was difficult for her. "Tell her that I'm sorry that I could not be there for her. That I'm sorry for letting them separate us! Tell her… that I _love_ her!" The last words came out as a whisper, and there were tears in her eyes. "I need her to know that I'm still thinking of her… that she is my strength…" She couldn't go on as she broke out in sorrow. "God, I miss her so…" she croaked. "My baby…"

"She is your daughter then?" the priest asked, strangely impassive. There was something about this holy man that was not right - Ripley became more certain of it now. But she couldn't tell what it was. And suddenly she regretted that she had displayed her emotions about Newt in front of him. It was a good thing she hadn't revealed the child's true name to this weird man.

Ripley turned away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand – and registered a commotion coming from the center of the platform. She was too far away and at the wrong angle to see – but it sounded like some panic.

"What's going on back there?" she asked.

"It is of no concern." The priest said. Ripley found that to be a strange answer coming from a holy man. A tingling sense in the back of her mind was really screaming a warning to her now. A quick look around revealed that she was alone here with him in the corner – there was no one else around.

"Father, what concretion did you say you belonged to?" The priest didn't answer. And from behind her back, Ripley didn't see how the holy man did a strange flick with his hand…

* * *

It was amazing how quickly Newt had descended the stairs. She was quite the quick sprinter when she needed to be and by physical law, it was easier to go downwards then up. Yet she needed a moment to catch her breath. She had not run into a single person during her descent, but she figured it was for the same reason as back in the mall in Washington: people always avoided the stairs when elevators were available. And as the staircase was built along the corner of the tower, visitors obviously avoided these areas feeling they had nothing there to do – therefore she was alone where she was. Newt was still one level above the main floor and far away from the occupied areas, but thanks to her acute hearing; she could hear that the noise from the people was not of a normal character. It sounded like the people were shouting and screaming in warning of some kind. Newt moved over to the railing on the edge of the floor and leaned over, attempting to look ahead towards the center to make out what the commotion was about. She saw nothing over there – but then she saw something else!

Right underneath her on the level below where she stood, she saw Ripley together with a man she didn't know. Although the woman had longer hair than last time she'd seen her, Newt recognized her immediately. The child tensed up – what was she going to do now when she'd found her? Call out? But her insecurity said against it; what if Ripley didn't want to see her? Besides she was busy talking to the man, maybe she didn't want to be disturbed. Newt listened slightly to make out what they were talking about. "Father, what concretion did you say you belonged to?" she heard Ripley say. _Father?_ It couldn't be her own dad – Newt knew about the story on how Ripley had slept for fifty-seven years drifting in space. She then made a note of the word 'concretion'. The man was a priest, she realized. A holy man…

Newt suddenly froze. Her eyes went wide as a piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. One of the mysteries that's been nagging her subconscious this whole time was how the terminator chasing her had gotten hold of her phone-number to track her. The only answer was that her grandparents had given it to them. But why would they have done that? Her grandparents had lived solely for their religion, and they had been holding on to it so strongly that they distanced themselves from everybody who didn't share their faith, even family-members! They would never have left her phone-number to a stranger asking for it. But to a _priest_ … _!_

A _priest_ wouldn't be considered a stranger – they shared the same faith, followed the same religion, doing the same work to serve their god. Even one they hadn't seen before would be welcomed with open arms, they were all family in the church! A false priest could easily have manipulated information out of her grandparents if he played his role well enough – and an expert infiltration unit like a Terminator could very well do that disguised as holy man! And if that disguise worked so well to fool her grandparents, why would they drop it? As a priest, it could move around everywhere without anyone questioning it. Newt didn't need Pops' sensors – she knew without a doubt that _that man down there was the Terminator!_ She no longer hesitated…

"RIPLEY! LOOK OUT! HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Alas, the child's main intention had been to make Ripley aware of the danger she was in – but as the woman looked up to spot the owner of the voice, the adult instead froze, staring in disbelief.  
 _It couldn't be! She couldn't be here! It had to be a hallucination, a figment of her emotional state…_  
She was so blanked out that she did not see how the priest behind her made a sweeping move…

BOOM!

The gunshot was enough to rouse Ripley out of her stupor. Who would be foolish enough to fire a gun within the civilian tower? If an armor-piercing bullet hit the big window, they would all be exposed to vacuum! It appeared that the priest was the one who had been hit, but then she saw something strange: what was the priest doing behind her with a _sword_? Then her eyes went wide as she saw something that was _not_ ordinary! The priest didn't hold a sword in his hand – there was no hand visible! The whole _fore-arm_ was shaped like a silvery blade, poised against her. She looked up to look him in the eye – and was shocked! One of the priest's eyes were gone, there was only a gaping hole all the way though his skull like a peep-hole. But the wound wasn't red with raw exposed meat – the edges were all like _silver_!

The fake priest had staggered from the shot, but now he stood straight and turned to face her, his former pleasant expression all gone. The gaping hole in his head flowed in with silvery liquid filling up the void – and suddenly he was all _healed!_ Both eyes were back like he had never been shot. Ripley was so stunned by disbelief and confusion of what she saw that she was unable to do anything, and the fake priest raised his blade-arm again to make a strike at her…

" _Get down, Ripley!_ " The woman was suddenly knocked to the floor by a flying body, the impact made her breath escape her lungs - and then the shooting started again. The fake priest was hit, and every time he was, a new silvery hole appeared on his chest. The priest was staggering backwards against the railing of the platform, not given time to regain his composure. With one final shot, the priest was knocked over the railing and he disappeared down into the abyss below. A large man holding a smoking rifle rushed forward…

"We got a problem!" he said.

"You know, I really hate it when somebody says that!" the man who had knocked Ripley down replied. She recognized him now. " _Hicks?!_ What the…?" she stammered.

"That was no _ordinary_ Terminator!" the mystery man proceeded to explain. "It's a T-1000!"

"Bad news for us, I take it," Hicks said as he got up to his feet.

"Very! Conventional ways cannot destroy it! Knocking him over the edge won't stop him! He'll be back!"

"Then we better quickly get out of here!" Hicks pulled Ripley up. "You all right?" he asked her.

"What the _fuck_ is this?!" Ripley demanded to know all confused. "What the fuckis going _on?!_ "

"I'll explain later, but right now we have to get back to our ship!"

"That may no longer be an option," the big man said. And true to his words, the three of them were suddenly surrounded by Sevastopol's security team, all holding them at gunpoint.

"Aw, crap!" Hicks muttered under his breath and raised his arms. "There's nothing to be done. Put down your gun, Pops. We surrender." He caught sight of Major Winter's stepping forward with a furious expression on his face. "Well, I had a feeling that he didn't buy my cover-story anyhow."


	26. The Ace of Monster Maze

Author's notes: I apologize profusely for the last chapter's bad choice of use of terms and some other bad writing. I was preoccupied with other thoughts since I had several deaths in my family recently, and through the past weeks I've been very busy which left me no time to write.

Chapter 25 has now been updated and I can finally post this next chapter as well. I won't make a promise when I will be finished with another, it all depends how life goes from here.

On with the story…

* * *

Paperwork! Most field-agents working for the government or in this case; worldwide companies, loathed this part of the job. They wanted to be where the action was, not sitting down behind a desk filling out reports all day long. Yet it was what agents Bolton and Humphrey of Weyland-Yutani Company's special operations department were doing at this moment. Or rather: the older and experienced Bolton were doing the paperwork – the younger impatient Humphrey sat fidgeting with a broken candy-dispenser he had swiped from someplace. He was working getting inside the thing to get hold of the sweets. Bolton was about to angrily tell his younger partner to get going with his pile of reports when another worker with a pile of documents on his arm rushed into their shared office.

"Hey, Bolt'!" the newcomer said, using a common and shorter nickname for the agent. "We got a hit on one of your missing subjects! Dwayne Hicks has been located!"

"Where?" Bolton asked halting his pen.

"You won't believe it! He's at Sevastopol II in the Zeta Reticuli system. He stole a transport of some kind and went there to apparently attempt to spring a prisoner together with a dude yet to be identified. The two were exposed and arrested!"

"Prisoner?" Humphrey asked looking up from the dispenser. "What prisoner?"

The newcomer looked through the files he carried on his arm. "A woman," he said as he found the correct information. "Somebody named Ellen Ripley." He was not prepared for the alarm that came over the two agents as he said this.

" _Ellen Ripley was a Sevastopol?!_ " Bolton burst out as he threw his pen away. "What was _she_ doing there? And how did _he_ found out about that?"

"Well…" The messenger didn't know where to start. "Ripley is serving aboard a penal ship that was…"

"Yes, yes, yes - we know all about her serving sentence aboard the _P.C. Cerberus!_ " Humphrey said impatiently. "But how did Hicks know she would be there?"

"The chief of security, a Major Winters is attempting to find that out," the messenger explained. "He arrested both the corporal and the unidentified dude and…"

"What unidentified dude?" Bolton cut him off. "He teamed up with someone?"

"Err… we're running his features through a face-recognitional program to get a match, but so far…"

"You got his face? Let me see!" The messenger pulled out a photo from his pile and handed it to the agent. "It's from the surveillance camera in the hangar where they landed. This photo shows the entire crew complement of the craft they came in and…."

"No!" Bolton blubbered out as he looked at the photo. "It's not _possible!_ " The photo showed a wide-shot of the hangar – several people were captured in the moment as they were scanned upon arrival. Aside from the personnel working at the station there were Dwayne Hicks present – but also two other people. Bolton handed the photograph to Humphrey whose reaction almost matched that of his partner.

"What the _hell_ …?!" the younger agent sputtered as he recognized the old man and the child – both who were supposed to be dead. "How can they…? How did they…?"

Bolton was the one who collected himself first. "Set up a communique with Sevastopol right away!" he barked at the messenger. "Use a maximum-boosted signal for a direct transmission! I don't care that we risk using up a lot of power for this, I want to speak to that chief of security _now!_ "

After fifteen minutes, they had Major Winters of Sevastopol II on the screen. "This transmission eats up a lot of juice and risk setting our communications-pylons into an overload, so I'll cut straight to the case!" Bolton informed the man on the screen. "The people who came onboard unannounced – where are they presently?"

"In custody," Major Winters replied. "I had them locked up right after they attempted to…"

"I don't care about the circumstances of their crimes!" Bolton cut him off. "I want to know if they talked to someone! Are they separated?"

"They told some lies to my staff to hide their true identities and they attacked one of my men. But I got them in three separate cells."

"You keep them there!" Bolton ordered. "I want _nobody_ talking to them, and I mean _nobody!_ "

Winters started to protest. "But I need to find out how they managed to compromise our security! I need to find out how they got word to prisoner Ripley and vice versa of this planned breakout! We suspect they murdered a priest…"

"That is secondary!" the agent said firmly. "Your first priority is to keep the prisoners isolated from each other until we can ship them away to some permanent locations in every corner of cosmos! Those two meddling morons and that brat must never come together again!"

"First we need to find her," Winters said under his breath.

"Find who?"

"The kid. She managed to escape capture and is hiding somewhere…"

"But you said you had three occupied cells?!"

"Yes, Dwayne Hicks, the unidentified man and Ellen Ripley."

"Are you telling me that Ellen Ripley is _still_ at Sevastopol?!"

"Yes," Winters confirmed. "The _Cerberus_ left her behind. As I said: I needed to question them how they managed to compromise our security."

A blood-vein was bulging in Bolton's temple and his eyes became darker. "Why are we saddled with such incompetent _morons?!_ Ellen Ripley were _**never ever**_ to leave _Cerberus!_ "

Major Winters raised an eyebrow on the screen. "Never?"

"She's under a special program… they _all_ are! The captain of the _Cerberus_ is supposed to _know_ that!" Agent Bolton was absolutely furious. He turned to another controller: "Call up that captain's file! Contact him and tell him that he's _fired!_ The second-in-command is to turn around and pick Ripley up _immediately!"_

"What about their flight-plan schedule?" the controller asked.

"I don't give a damn about their flight-plan schedule! I want Ripley back on that ship this minute!"

"But Sir, you don't turn a ship on a dime! They will need to slow down from FTL-speed and…"

"If you question my orders one more time you will join the _Cerberus_ former captain in _unemployment!_ " Bolton barked. The controller said no more.

"As for you, Major…" the agent now turned back to the screen. "You make sure that those prisoners remain locked up and isolated from all contact until further notice! If they slip out or they contact somebody, you will be held fully responsible!"

Major Winters was about to protest again, but Bolton wasn't going to let him. He only said one more thing. " _And find that kid!_ Over and _out!_ "

* * *

The screen in Sevastopol's operations center went blank and left Major Winters standing dumbfounded. "What the heck is all this about?" he said aloud.

Winter's own second-in-command, Commander Cohoe had no better answers to give. "It appears we've been dropped into a real jam with a secret recipe. And we just got forbidden to ask any more about it. What I don't understand is how a little kid is involved in this?"

"You had better organize a search party," Winters grumbled. "Whatever this jam is, that hotshot agent is quite persistent in finding that girl."

"But where are we supposed to look? None of us saw where she went! It's like she just disappeared!"

"A child doesn't just disappear, Cohoe! This is a space station – there's nowhere for her to run!"

"Run, no - but a lot of places where she can hide!" Cohoe pointed out.

"She's probably covering under a bench somewhere." Winters appeared to be unconcerned about a missing child on the station. "She's presently the only kid aboard – how hard can it be to find her?"

"I've already put the monitor-crew on alert-status to look through the video-footage of the securecams," Cohoe said. "She had to have passed at least some of them. It is unfortunate though that the cameras within the ducts are inoperable!"

Winters was looking at his number two with a disdainful look. "You're actually suggesting that she might have gone into the crampy air ducts? Are you _kidding?!_ The _moles_ – the remote maintenance drones barely fit in there and they're no bigger than… well, a mole! The idea to equip the electrical access tunnels with cameras is way beyond me what they were thinking when they designed this station!"

"To spy for rodent infestation," Cohoe shot in – although it was to deaf ears.

"No human can get in there! That's why I never bothered wasting time replacing them when they broke down. Bloody waste of time it would have been!"

Those were words Major Winters was going to be made to eat. The child in question that had evaded capture was right now looking down at them from behind the mesh of a protective grille covering a conduit which was quite small in diameter – yet the child had managed to squirm herself inside with practiced ease. If those men down there have had any knowledge of the child's history they wouldn't have been so quick to dismiss that possibility of her hiding in there. Crawling inside the narrow air ducts was not a new experience to her as she had been doing it for almost half her life. She was after all the Ace of Monster Maze!

After seeing her friends be arrested from the level above, Newt had known that she needed to hide and avoid any kind of detection, just like she had done back on LV-426 when the aliens had overrun the complex of Hadley's Hope. Remaining free was her only chance of helping her friends, even if she right now didn't know how she was going to do that. Luck had been on her side when she discovered an entryway into the ducts under the stairs she had recently descended, and it had been a cover which was not screwed stuck to the wall. Newt had been amazed of the overwhelming feeling like she was reacquainting herself with an old comforting friend when she'd entered the cramped tunnels, immediately being reminded of the game she and the other kids played in similar canals back in her colony. Every child had been playing Monster Maze: a game of hide and seek and sometimes even treasure hunting. Newt had been the best: not only had she had the ability to memorize every path; shortcuts included, but because she was the smallest she could go into places no one else could fit and completely avoid her pursuers. The other kids hadn't appreciated her advantage though: they claimed that she was cheating!

These weren't the air ducts of Hadley's Hope though, they were unexplored grounds – but Newt wasn't worried. As long as she had her sense of direction to rely on, she could easily lay out the passageways in her mind as she went along. These ducts were narrower than what she was used to, but that was no bother either. Newt was not subject to claustrophobia. Quite the contrary, she preferred it cramped as it meant that no one would be able to follow and capture her. That was how she had escaped from the aliens; by going where the monsters couldn't follow! All those experiences from that time served her well now: she expertly squirmed herself through the ducts quickly and yet as quiet as a mouse. It had taken her a while, but she soon found her way over to the second tower of Sevastopol which was reserved for operations and personnel. There she had managed to listen in on the conversation between the commanders of the station and the Company agents on Earth… and learn.

She learned that her adult companions were in three different cells, she learned that the prisoner ship was coming back to pick up Ripley. That would take it a while, but the child was still on limited time – how much time she didn't know. The most important thing she learned was that the securcams; the 'Evil Eyes' as they were called in Monster Maze within these ducts were inoperable, as in 'blind'. That meant that she could move around freely without being discovered! She remembered about two years ago, when she had overheard two technicians of her colony talking about how one of the few cameras within one of the key-junctions of the air duct system had gone out. It was in a junction no kid would pass as the people in operations would then discover them, and the trick was to play in the ducts without being caught by the adults! Newt had decided not to tell anybody else of the 'Evil Eye' that had gone blind, she used that knowledge to completely outmaneuver her pursuers on that day's hide and seek-game. That was the first time they had labeled her as a cheater. Newt had always resented that. She did not cheat – she was just smarter than they were!

Newt pushed those memories aside - it was time to get a move on. The girl retraced her crawl feet first for a while before she reached a crossing where she gained enough room to squirm around to a new direction and she resumed her exploring. The plan she had was a simple one: find her friends and talk to them. The next course of action was up to them to work out. She just hoped that she had enough time, and that she could muster up the courage she needed to face her demons.

* * *

 _So much for my spot-free record._  
Ripley still wasn't sure what exactly had happened. It was all so confusing. That inhuman priest had obviously sought her death, but she couldn't understand why. And what kind of entity was he? She had never seen that kind of lifeform before, if it even were a lifeform. A T-1000 a stranger of a man called it, whatever that was. And from out of nowhere Dwayne Hicks suddenly dropped back into her life to obviously save her life, but unfortunately his appearance had resulted in Ripley being in more trouble now than she had been before. The lawyer, if she would ever be able to contact him again would never re-open her case now, not when she was accused of planning a break-out from prison. Ripley was completely innocent to that, but she knew that no one would be interested to listen – the authorities only saw what they wanted to see and they were going to make an example out of her.

And of course, there was Newt. Had it really been her she saw? Ripley didn't dare to believe it – she was almost convinced that it had been a figment of her imagination. How could the child even be here? But then: how could _Hicks_ be here? There was never time to get any of those answers before they were all arrested and locked up in separate cells, leaving her with many questions and a harsher punishment in due. She couldn't see how she could possibly get out of this.

"Psst!" Ripley sat against the wall of her cell on the floor, so deep in thought that she didn't hear the small sound the first time. "Pssst!" The sound was more intense this time finally catching Ripley's attention. She turned her head to find the source of the sound, looked up and saw the cover of steel threads covering an air vent. There was a face behind the fender.

"How do we get into these messes anyway?" a young voice said with a feigned cheerfulness. Ripley immediately scrambled to her feet to rush over to the vent. There was no longer any doubt that her eyes had in fact not betrayed her. "Newt!" she gasped.

"Look, I'm sorry," the child began. She was resting her small fingers against the net. She was for the moment glad that it was there to separate them, otherwise she'd never get the courage to address the adult. "I know what you told me, that you didn't want me to come, but I had to come to warn you. I know that you…" But then the child stopped talking, as Ripley showed her own fingers between the steel mesh and folded her digits over the girl's small hands.

"Oh, baby," The adult whispered. "How I missed you!"

"You… you _did?!_ " The child was very surprised. "But your letter said… that you never wanted to see me again?"

Ripley stiffened. There was a cold feeling creeping down her spine. "Those _bastards!_ " she spat. "They _dared_ to… Oh, sweetheart, that letter wasn't from me! I never wanted to be part from you!"

For a moment Newt felt like she got no air to her lungs – she had to work hard to collect herself. "They wanted to make sure we remined apart…" she said in her tiniest voice. "…to keep us quiet. And not just them! The Terminators want that too!"

"Terminators?" Ripley asked. "What are those?"

"Cyborgs! Robots who look like humans! They want to kill us! You, me, and Hicks! That's why we came here! We knew one was here to get to you! That priest…"

"Definitely not human," Ripley agreed. To anyone this would sound like a too incredible story to believe, but Ripley had seen it with her own eyes and she would never think of Newt making up a story like that. The adult believed the child… all the way.

"We need to get out of here before it comes back," Newt continued. "I'll need to talk to Pops, he might have an idea how to get you out."

"Who is Pops?"

"He's my friend. And… he's a Terminator too, but a friendly one. He saved me from the Terminator who was trying to kill me."

"Good heavens, child, how did this happen to you?" Ripley was visibly shaken.

"There's no time to explain, I don't think I can stay that long. The guards might come here soon to check the securcam. I pulled the cable before I called you." Ripley had not at all taken notice of it, but the miniature video camera monitoring her cell was imbedded in the wall right above the ventilation cover. To make sure no prisoner fiddled with the cameras, the cables plugged to it could only be accessed from within the air conduit – a maintenance worker would have to unscrew the whole grill to get to the camera's operation circuit from behind the wall. Since Newt had squirmed herself to the spot through the back-route, it was easy for her to temporarily disable the device. That meant that no one in Sevastopol's operations center have learned of this conversation taking place.

"You thought about disabling the camera all by yourself?" Ripley was amazed: the child was very intelligent for thinking of such details.

"That was all part of the game," Newt said with a matter-of-factly tone but still looking pleased. "Never let the adults know that you were in there! I was the ace, you know! I still am!"

Just then they heard a small commotion going on outside in the corridor. It sounded like a large party was approaching.

"You better sit down again, Ripley," Newt said. "I have to re-insert the cable and be on my way. But be ready: we won't leave you here! That's a promise!"

Ripley smiled. "The roles have been quite reversed, haven't they?" A year ago on LV-426 it was Ripley who had made a promise to a frightened little girl that she was never going to leave her behind. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same girl. She was still very young, but more matured now. The woman felt an overwhelming pride. Suddenly they heard a clanking sound on the door: it was the sound of pistons being retracted within the framework. Somebody was locking it up. Ripley rushed back to the spot on the floor she had vacated earlier. She threw a quick glance back at the vent, but the girl was no longer visible behind the grille.

The door to cell opened and three guards came in with suspicious looks on their faces. "What have you been up to?" one asked the woman in an unfriendly tone. "Been mischievous, have you?"

"What do you mean?" Ripley asked the guard. "I've been sitting here the whole time, what do you think I could do?"

The guard was about to retort when one of the other newcomers got a call on his radio. He listened to the message. "The camera just came back online? You certain?"

"What else would I be if not certain?" an annoyed voice replied over the radio. "I'm looking right at you on the monitor! Check the cover of the vent!" The guard walked over to the air vent and tugged on the cover. It remained completely fixed to the wall.

"It's secured tightly," the guard stated. He peeked in through the mesh of the fender, but saw nothing. The conduit was empty. "This has not been tampered with at all! It must've been a glitch!"

It was too bad for the guard that he couldn't see behind the T-bend of the conduit as it was there Newt huddled, completely out of sight. She waited for a moment until she was certain that the coast was clear, then she began to crawl again. She made sure to cover some distance from Ripley's cell before she allowed the tears to fall. She had felt the overwhelming need to cry for the last minutes – not of happiness but because she was so incredibly angry.

A _lie!_ That letter had been _a lie!_ A fake message given to her by the Company making her think Ripley had abandoned her! Everything could have been so different after the escape from LV-426; she could've lived with Ripley… she could've been happy! But the Company had denied her that opportunity, they had interfered in her life and put her in a miserable situation together with her grandparents who had not loved her as Ripley did! The company had stolen her new chance of a happy life, just like Carter Burke's actions had lost the girl her parents, her family, her home!

 _No more!_ Newt felt a sense of vindictiveness course over her. The Company was going to _pay_ for what they'd done to them! Newt made promise to herself that she was going to destroy them like they had destroyed her, even if it meant that she was going to have to dedicate her whole life to do it! But no matter how long it took, she was going to bring them down!


	27. The mission

In another cell of Sevastopol's prison-facility sat an old man completely still on the tiny room's only chair at a small table. The controllers in Operations watching the video-feed from that cell regarded the occupant on the screen curiously. Because when you said 'completely still' you didn't mean that the old man just stayed put. He really didn't move – not one inch. It was like watching the video-feed on a statue. In Ripley's cell the occupant also stayed put against the wall, but at least she moved slightly. There was more activity going on with the corporal; he was pacing around in his tiny room like a caged animal, which he was. But the old man just didn't even twitch.

The controllers threw one look after another on each other, daring anybody to come up with a theory. Was the camera malfunctioning and fed them only a still picture? But the systems said that everything worked fine. Was the old man just so disciplined that he could sit still for an extended period of time? But what would he gain on doing that? Some of the personnel in operations were beginning to think that the old man rally was a kind of synthetic – others actually believed that he had died on the spot in there. They were beginning to think that they should go to that cell to check up on him – and then the screen suddenly went blank.

* * *

There wasn't much Pops could do right now as he didn't have enough information available to him – therefore he simply waited and conserved his continuously depleting energy. His power-cell was draining at a faster rate than he had expected it would, his old systems demanding more of his special energy to stay functioned. Soon his power would drop to a critical level and when that happened he would be severely diminished. Some of his lower functions that was not essential to his operational status had already gone off-line and it would only be a matter of time before some more important systems was beginning to suffer from the energy-loss.

Yet it wasn't his main concern. It was the T-1000's presence that was the greatest risk to them all. Pops had no idea where the poly-alloy killer could be right now and it would only be a matter of time before it struck again. If Pops didn't receive a sign soon, he would have no choice but to break out and attempt to collect Newt and get out of there. The adults he would have to leave behind to keep the T-1000 busy while Pops saw to their escape. The protection of Sarah Connor's descendant was the only thing that mattered and he was to follow his programming to the very end. But first he needed to relocate the young child.

Suddenly his audio sensors received a sound that was out of place. "Pops! Pops!" a small voice whispered. He turned his head towards the sound and spotted the voice's owner behind a grate on the wall.  
"Caroline Connor," he acknowledged neutrally, opting to use her temporary pseudonym as he didn't know who might be listening. Aside from that, he made no move at all. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Never mind that," Newt quickly dismissed. "Just tell me if there's any way for you to get out of this imprisonment? Do you have a plan?"

"That is not a subject to be discussed here," Pops said. "There's an active camera above you."

"I pulled the plug on it!" the girl said impatiently. "No one will hear us, but it might not be long before somebody comes to check it! So talk to me, what are we going to do?"

"Can you gain access to any place of this station through the air duct?" Pops asked her.

"Just about. I'm still finding my way around, but I have a pretty good idea where everything is."

"Can you get to the main server room? You should find it in the coldest area of the tower as it is required to keep the computers from overheating."

"I suppose I could… but why do you need me to go there?"

"To pull the plugs! We need to keep the technicians busy and in disarray for a moment. Locate the main breakers for doors, communications and cameras. And if possible, prevent Major Winters from leaving his office. I need him out of the way to implement the most crucial state of our breakout."

"I'll try… but then what?"

"Your mission is to kill all circuits to doors, communications and cameras. Let me know when you have done so and I will do the rest. But don't let anybody see you. You had better go now, I can hear two men approaching."

"I'm going. Sit tight."

"Why would I want to tighten my seat?"

Newt rolled her eyes at the machine's misinterpretation of her words, then she reconnected the cable she had pulled earlier into the camera and crawled back into the conduit. Just in time too, she heard how the door to Pops' cell opened.

"That guy hasn't moved a muscle!" a voice said.

"And the camera hasn't been tampered with," a second said. "Not only that, I hear now from Operations that it's working again!"

"What's the matter with those damn things?" the first voice said, sounding quite exasperated. "We really need to get this refurbishment rolling before they go out on us completely!"

If there were any more words exchanged, Newt didn't hear those as she moved on. Nor did she need to. She felt a satisfaction knowing that the people of Sevastopol still didn't suspect her crawling around in the air vents. But she wasn't sure what Pops wanted her to do. Go to the main server rooms and pull the plugs. What good would that do? But she supposed Pops had a reason for wanting her to do it, so she was going to attempt doing so.  
Despite what she had said to Pops, it took some time for Newt to find the correct duct that would lead her to her destination. There were no markings she could follow, so she had to rely on her other senses. Pops had said that the main server room was a cold area to keep the computers chilled, so the girl looked for the strongest cold breeze within the duct that she could find and followed it. Cold wasn't that much of a bother to her – she had grown up on LV-426 which had been a very cold planet, so she was used to it.

On her way through the ducts she carefully threw a glance into every room she passed through the grates to determine where she was. Most of the areas she saw didn't tell a thing, but this last one appeared to be an office of a high-ranked officer. A burly-looking man with snow-white hair sat behind a desk, typing on a computer while smoking a cigar. From what Newt had heard, this had to be Major Winters. She was too young to be superstitious, but she found it to be a good omen to find him in his office, right where Pops had wanted him. If she only could find the server room, she might actually be able to pull this off. For a second she considered pulling the plug on the securcam to his office from here, but that might alert the controllers prematurely. Besides from what she could tell as she looked around; there was no camera in here. The Major's office wasn't monitored. It looked like the senior officers were privileged with privacy. This fact would only serve her purpose, even if Newt herself couldn't fully comprehend this. As quietly as she had come, she left, leaving Major Winters completely oblivious to that he had been watched.

Finally, Newt found it – the main server room. And this room was, not at all surprisingly, monitored by a camera. She disconnected the cable to it before she pounded her small fists on the grill and shoved it out from its frame. This cover was not screwed to the wall as this wasn't a holding cell. The noise in there was loud, almost deafening. It wasn't only the fans spreading the cold air into the small chamber, but the computer servers were working hard as well. Before she jumped out into the room, she took a moment to survey what she was heading in to. One important rule in the game was when you went somewhere you were not allowed to enter, make sure you had the means to escape quickly so that you would not get trapped and caught. She spotted a folding chair standing against the wall. She figured it was there for the maintenance workers to sit on whenever they came in there. Excellent. She would use that to climb on when she needed to get back into the vent, otherwise it would have been too high up for her to get to.

Exiting the duct, she jumped down to the floor with practiced ease. Although she was used to cramped spaces, it felt good to be able to move her arms more freely again as they had been protesting a bit by its long-term position straight ahead of her. A moment of sadness came over her as she realized what it meant – soon her time as a duct-dweller would be over. She hadn't grown that much over the past year, but she was none-the-less a growing girl. It wouldn't be long until she would be too big to fit into the ducts and the game of Monster Maze wouldn't be hers to play anymore. Eventually everything would come to an end whether you liked it or not, it always did – she of all kids knew that perfectly well! Newt shoved that sad thought aside - she had a task to do!

Newt knew that she didn't have that much time since she had blinded the camera monitoring this room – there would be people here soon. The servers were in appearance nothing but six big metallic blocks with blinking diodes and many, _quite_ many cables in different colors connected to each one of them. Those cables from all six servers were tied together in several different bundles in an unfashionable manner, in a way Newt could not in her world find organized and they disappeared into several electrical tubes within the wall. Pops wanted her to disturb the lines controlling doors, communications and cameras. But how was she to know which cables were which? She didn't want to risk interrupting something she wasn't supposed to affect. But upon closer inspection, she found that it was going to be easier than she had first thought. Each of those server blocks in this room had its own function and they were all conveniently labeled for their respective functions. Even more easier, above each slot there was a small plaque telling her to which area of the station the lines went to.

The first server directed command functions to the station's gyro-stabilizers and artificial gravity – that was something she was not going to touch! The second seemed to monitor and regulate the electrical out-put throughout the station: for environmental control, elevators, lights, and computers among others; in fact, it seemed to disperse the energy onto most of the common functions onboard. Perhaps even doors, communications and cameras? Newt though about pulling the cables from this block… but then she saw something else on the plaques: it also powered the sickbay, _and_ heatshields outside the station. Hands off that server as well!

On the third server though she found something interesting as she read the label printed on it: this appeared to be the memory-block for electronic codes! According to the notes, this server supervised clearance and authorization-levels to all locks and access-ports throughout the station which required a certain code to make use of. And Newt knew that a facility like this would make sure that unauthorized people would not gain entry to areas that were restricted. It had been the same on Hadley's Hope – there were some areas that were off-limits to residents who didn't have high enough clearance. That should without a doubt include the doors to the cells on the prison-block! The small plaques above the slots confirmed this.

But before she did anything, she threw a glance on the other servers as well. The fourth metallic block was handling transmissions for both internal and external areas; radios, surveillance, video, and radar. She knew that she would have to pull all those cables as well. The fifth one had the least numbers of lines connected to it. She read the label on the side for what it controlled: Oh my… the fifth block was the server for Sevastopol's _weapons_ system! All outside defenses was routed through here! Pops had not said anything about those, but Newt knew that if they managed to escape with the ship they would not want to be shot down! She needed to sabotage those as well – Hicks and Pops wouldn't mind if she did. The sixth and final server was one she was going to leave alone. It was the archives – there was nothing in that which would cause them any problems.

Ok. Newt now knew which ones of the blocks she needed to sabotage. She went back to the block which she suspected controlled the doors, grabbed on to one of the bundles of cables with her small hands and was about to pull… but then she hesitated. What right did she have to do this? What right did she have to sabotage for other people? They had only come to Sevastopol to save Ripley from being killed. All right, they had lied to the personnel and had apparently "killed" someone when they had found the Terminator… it was only natural for the staff to think they were some kind of terrorists – they were only following procedures, she couldn't blame them for that, could she? But if she did nothing, then the Company would get their hands on them again. The prison cruiser was on its way back to pick Ripley up, they would separate her and Newt again… the damn Company!

That's when she spotted the sign molded in the surface of the metallic cover of the server: The W-engram of the Weyland-Yutani Company. And she remembered that Hicks had said that Sevastopol was under Company-control. It meant that the personnel of this station worked for the same people that wanted to put her away, who had taken her away from her rescuers… the same Company who had been indirectly responsible for the death of her people on LV-426, and the death of her family! If the people of Sevastopol worked for Weyland, then they were in Newt's mind just as responsible for her past year's misfortune as everybody in the Company were! She felt no scruples for doing what she was set out to do anymore. The girl took a firm hold on the bundle of cables and pulled as hard as she could. With a determined tug, every line became lose and fell to the deck as if they were just a bunch of severed strings.

Above the noise running servers and fans, Newt could make out the din of an alarm suddenly starting. Since it happened precisely as she'd pulled the cables loose, she knew it was because of what she was doing. If people wasn't on their way here before after lost the camera-feed, they would certainly head here now! She had to hurry!  
She didn't concern herself with which cables she pulled anymore, not as long as she settled with the three servers she figured would be a threat to them. Bundle after bundle became a growing pile of severed cables on the floor – there would be quite some time before the technicians would manage to put them back in place. The girl had just ripped out the last of the cables when she heard a pounding on the door. The guards were right outside, but since she had disconnected the terminal with the clearance codes, they couldn't open it by command.

Newt scrambled to the wall, took the folding chair and put it underneath the opening to the vent. Climbing the chair, she heaved herself up and back into the conduit just as the guards started to shove the door to the side. By the time they made the entry and viewed the mess, she was already safe within the duct. Newt now crawled back the way she came, but she took a moment to throw a peak into Major Winters' office. She felt almost giddy as she heard the major's tantrum inside.

"Operations, this is Major Winters! Come in! My door is stuck – I can't get out! I demand to know what caused the alarm! Come in! _Answer me, goddammit!_ " But the line was completely dead. _Mission accomplished._ Newt needed to hurry back to Pops and tell him so that he could begin the next step of his plan.

Maybe there was a chance for them to get out of this yet.


	28. Breakout

It had been close to an hour since Newt had come by his cell, and Pops had not made a single move since then. Waiting was all he could do for the time being. Strategically it might have been a mistake to entrust such a young child to such an important task, but circumstances had shown that it was the best course of action to take. Had he had a couple of years to train her, as he had done with Sarah Connor, the decision would have been easier to make. Pops didn't have the feelings of doubt as humans did, but he was quite aware of the risks involved since Newt was so young and it was that factor that clashed with his logic-circuits. But the child had shown strong instincts and capabilities for survival before, so he had deemed it worth the risk.

It seemed to have payed off. His sensors detected the alarm going off and he could hear several bodies scrambling through the walls, none seemed to take a position outside in the corridor. Pops remained where he was, waiting… and after another fifteen minutes, he received the sign he had been expecting.

"Pops!" Newt was back, speaking to him through the cover of the ventilation duct. "I did it!" she declared excitedly. "The doors are stuck and they have no radio! I even got the video-feed of the cameras down! And Major Winters is trapped in his office, just like you wanted!"

"Excellent." Pops said neutrally. Newt got a bit miffed. Pops may be a machine, but she thought that he could have tried to give her a little better credit than that! Pops finally rose from his chair; "Now that I know that Major Winters is indisposed and the cameras are offline, I can proceed with the next phase." And before Newt's eyes, Pops underwent a transformation as his appearance changed. His poly-alloy cover lost its previous color and it floated until it took a new shape – and when he was finished, a perfect duplicate of Major Winters stood in the cell.

"How in the…" Newt gasped, confounded.

Although it was an image of Major Winters that spoke, the voice still belonged to Pops. "When we got arrested, Winters personally led the team who apprehended us. It was probably due to the fact that the two of us share equal size that the major chose to seize me as he expected resistance. What he didn't know when he arrested me was by touching me, my poly-alloy came into physical contact with his genetic structure. I sampled him and gained the ability to take his shape. Since you disabled the doors, I can now exit the cell without tripping an alarm and infiltrate the command center."

Pops walked up to the door – it was unlocked since it had been disconnected from the server, but still sealed tightly and impossible to budge by sheer human strength… Pops however did not fit into that category. Before he did anything though, he had more instructions to give to the child.  
"Caroline Connor!" Newt thought for a second to tell him to stop using the fake name for her, but she let it pass for the moment. "Find Michael Reese and Ellen Ripley. Tell them to be prepared for the doors to open – they are to make their escape and head for docking bay 16. They are not to stop for anything. When you are done doing so, you will exit the duct and go there as well."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, a little worried that her mechanical protector would make some kind of sacrifice to remain behind while the humans escaped.

"You do not need to be worried," Pops said, apparently having detected her apprehension. "I will join you as soon as my task is finished. Now go, Caroline Connor! We have no time to waste!" The child disappeared back into the depths of the duct-system. Pops, in his image of Major Winters, grabbed hold of the door with his fingertips and shoved it slowly aside. The pistons within the door-frame controlling the sliding ten-inch steel-barrier protested, but those were no match to the Terminator's strength. Pops exited his cell and slid the door closed again. No one would ever figure out how he got out from the tight security cell. To the personnel of Sevastopol; the old man will just have vanished in thin air.

* * *

There was a feverish activity going on in Sevastopol's main control center. Many key systems were down and they had no idea what the extent of the sabotage were. The two technicians were desperately trying to regain control, but there wasn't much they could do with the keyboards being completely unresponsive. Those were completely dead under their fingers and the screens only showed snow.

A junior assistant technician rushed in, gasping for breath. He had been running without stopping on the way.

"Talk to me," one of the senior techs, the chief, addressed the running man. "What's the damage?"

"Every line has been severed from blocks three through five and thrown to the floor," the newcomer said, panting. "It'll take hours to re-connect everything!"

"How the hell did someone manage to get in there?" the other controller exclaimed. "The server room is highly restricted! Only those with special clearance can access the area!"

"The cover of the air-vent lay on the floor…" the other reported.

"Give me a _break_ , man," the chief tech spat. "Surely you don't want to suggest that someone came in through the _duct?!_ A _child_ could barely fit in those tunnels!"

The second technician looked up as if something had hit him. "But… a child just might be able to fit in there – and there currently _**is**_ a child loose on this station!"

"But the very idea is _ludicrous!_ " the senior officer protested. "The kid wouldn't be smart enough to do a thing like that, would she?" The second tech didn't answer and he didn't need to. Because what other explanation could there be, no matter how improbable? "Where the heck is Major Winters?!" the senior asked instead.

"We haven't found him," the junior said in apology. The chief was about to bark at him for his incompetence when a new voice interrupted them.

"I am here!" Major Winters growled, standing in an opposite doorway. "Is somebody going to give me a report or what?" The junior technician repeated everything he had told the senior officers. "Hrrmf. It seems we have underestimated that kid," the major grunted.

"We need to find her before she causes us any more problems!" the senior tech declared. He turned to the junior who had arrived earlier. "Get back to the server room and tell them to get communications and video back online A.S.A.P.! Sooner or later she should pass a camera and then we got her!"

"Belay that order!" the major suddenly barked as the junior tech was about to run off. "The first priority is the doors!"

"The _doors?_ " The senior technician was bewildered. "But Major… we need to re-establish communications with our men and…"

"The security of this station comes first!" the major cut him off. "That means we have to take every precaution into consideration. Should an emergency occur somewhere on this station, we need to be able to access the area the minute we are aware of it!"

"But our communications… and our external _weapons_ …!"

"The status of our weapons is _not_ to leave this room! What people don't know can't hurt us. As for communications; we'll make use of the personnel with no special assignment viable to solve this crisis to act as couriers. That will be a good exercise for them."

The junior assistant looked uncomfortable knowing that he had been assigned to run all over the station until they had re-established all systems. The chief was not all the way convinced though. "I follow your reasoning, Major, but I would still like to point out…"

" _You have your orders, Chief!_ " Major Winters barked, ending the discussion. They sent the junior tech away to run back with the instructions and then the three remaining people settled in to wait for the results. The chief was annoyed, but he didn't let that show. What he did found weird though, was that the major was for once not smoking his constant cigar in the control center. Had he finally taken the non-smoking regulation in there to heart? But that was a thought he would not let show either. There was enough tension going on in the air as it was.

* * *

Hicks paced around restlessly in his cell. It was quite a dire situation for him as he was unable to do something about his predicament. He loathed the times when there was no way for him to regain control.  
There was one important thing to know about Dwayne Hicks: he had never wanted to be in command. The responsibility weighing on the shoulders of making decisions was a burden Hicks always avoided to carry whenever he could. He was never really worried about his own skin when out on a mission – but the well-being of his fellow comrades was something he took very seriously. Hicks had been comfortable with being second-in-command under Sgt. Apone as the consequences of every action would either fall on his shoulders, or even more preferably on the lieutenant that was in charge for them.

Hicks had always been a calm and calculative soldier: he needed to be to make sure that his team came home safely from every mission. He never took rash decisions – instead he had always evaluated the situation and made a prediction of the outcome – all to make sure that he would not lose anybody under his command. All that had really put him to a test during the disastrous mission to LV-426. Sgt. Apone had perished and the incompetent Lieutenant Gorman had been rendered unconscious, which led to that the responsibility of command had fallen on his shoulders. Hicks had not been happy about that, but he had assumed it anyway – it was his responsibility to bring the rest of his people home and he would have done it in any way he could! He had failed. The main objective of the mission was to assist the colonists of Hadley's Hope: there was only one left to aid, and in the end it was the civilian advisor who had accomplished even that task. All his team had done was to die at the claws of the same living nightmare that had destroyed the colony. Hicks knew perfectly well that there wasn't anything else he could've done, but he regretted the outcome anyway, blaming himself for the death of his team.

And that which bothered him now was that his decision might have put even more people that he wanted to protect in danger. He had made a tactical error in his plan when they had come here, thinking that the major would buy his cover-story. The major hadn't and now they were all arrested and in peril – all because of Hicks, and by being locked in here he couldn't rectify his mistake! _That_ was what bothered him so tremendously now, and that was why he never had wanted the responsibility of command.

 _At least all wasn't lost._ Newt was still free and had avoided being caught. The girl had come and gone a little over twenty minutes ago, speaking to him from the air-duct where she had taken refuge. Apparently the Terminator Pops had managed to get himself free and was implementing a plan to get them all out of there. _Prepare for the doors to open_ , Newt had instructed him. She had not known how Pops was going to do that though, and that was another thing that bothered Hicks: he had to rely on another. Since he didn't know what was going to happen, he felt he had no control. A wrong decision might be made and that was something Hicks really feared. It would fall on _his_ shoulders if something bad happened since it had been _him_ who had urged for them to come to Sevastopol! He both did and did not look forward to what would happen next.

* * *

It was slow work for the technicians to get the systems back online since some of the lines recently connected to the servers had been damaged by being pulled out roughly – some connectors were broken and had to be replaced. It was a good thing that each cord had its own label telling the technicians which cable was which or the job would've taken months to put back together. They were still looking at hours of work ahead of them though. The chief technicians waited for the results rather impatiently in the control center – the waiting was getting to them. Major Winters, who in reality was Pops in disguise, stood quietly in the back behind another computer terminal, looking the most patient of them all. It was another aspect of the major which the chief found strange – the major was known to be an extremely impatient man. He would be expected to be down in the server room, screaming at the working people to get their thumbs out of their asses and get the system back online – but instead he had during this time elapsed dispatched all the security guards to every key-point around the station and put them there on guard duty until every system was back and running. Since that time he had done nothing more, except for standing behind a large computer console in the back with his arms crossed over his chest, saying absolutely nothing. And he still didn't smoke any cigars.

Had the chief been able to see what was going on beneath the large terminal the 'major' was standing behind, he would have a good reason to be concerned, even alarmed. It looked like the major was standing with his arms akimbo, but those limbs were in fact just empty props, shaped by Pops' poly-alloy. Underneath those false limbs, the machine's metallic skeletal arms were protruding from the torso and was rapidly working on the keyboard. A Terminator was an infiltration unit – hacking a computer was a subroutine that had been incorporated into its programming. Pops was about to commit another sabotage by writing a program which would affect a desired security-system which Pops would use when the time was right. What he was doing was that he rerouted several power-distribution lines to all go through one single cord. When he would hit the final button, a massive power-surge would press itself through a cable that wasn't meant to handle such a large electrical feed. Thus the cable would melt and burn, and the smoke would activate the fire-detectors. That program would delete itself once the task was completed, all Pops needed was to get the doors back in service.

After two hours, the junior technician came back rushing from the server room and reported that computer-block three, which was the one controlling all systems requiring a special security clearance were back up to a semi-operational status. All passages which was controlled with codes were now accessible again and the techs would now concentrate on the doors with a lower priority. The block that would give them back communications and video was still a secondary objective, by orders of Major Winters. The junior tech grumbled as he had to play a running courier for a while longer, but he took off with no further objections. Pops waited for ten minutes. It would look suspicious if he activated his little programming conveniently when the security-codes had become operational again. But as the time was right, Pops in disguise as Major Winters hit a button on the terminal that said 'ENABLE', and after a few seconds the fire-alarm went off.

"Report!" he barked, even though he in reality knew exactly what was going on.

"We got electrical fire in sector 12 through 26!" the assistant technician read on his console. "There are several burnouts! The cables must've been over-heated! We got smoke in those corridors!"

"Detention is in sector 22!" the chief pointed out. "If the smoke hit the fire-detectors there, the doors to the cells will automatically open and let the prisoners free!" The senior technician turned to the major. "We currently only got two guards posted there! The rest are dispersed around the station and since communications are down we can't call them in! The prisoners can overpower the guards on duty outside the detention area and escape!"

"They won't escape on my watch!" the major stated. "I'll go and deal with that particular nuisance personally!" And with that 'Major Winters' strode out of Sevastopol's control center, leaving the two technicians totally oblivious to that this had been the plan all along. Pops' business there was now finished. It was time to round up the flock and leave the station.

* * *

Pops plan had worked a little too well. The burnout of the cable did indeed erupt in fire and smoke, only it was on a larger scale than what the Terminator had anticipated. It set fire on several more equipment and was starting to run out of control. The automatic fire-suppressor systems came on in every affected corridor, detention-area included. The security-system had indeed opened the doors to every cell to allow the incarcerated to escape the fire, but the halls were filled with not only the smoke from burnt electrical systems, but also the gaseous and powdery vapor from the fire-extinguishers. Hicks had made his escape as soon as the door had opened, but now he was stumbling blindly through the smoke-filled corridor, coughing and teary-eyed. Yet he knew that he had to find Ripley's cell. They had come to Sevastopol for her and he was not going to leave her behind. But orientation was difficult, especially since he was almost run down by other people who had been locked up and made their own run for freedom. Hicks would try, but he did not know how long he would stand for this environment before he choked on the gases.

Pops action had also, unbeknownst to them, left another setback. When the fire-sensors picked up the smoke from the melted electrical cable, it automatically put every detector through the whole station on alert, even some dormant ones. The detector that was installed in Major Winters' office did now pick up the large cloud of tobacco-smoke from the officer's many cigars which he had been smoking non-stop while he had been incarcerated in his own room. Usually it was programmed to not read the smoke from the cigars, but as the station was put on fire-alert status, it was put up on full sensor-read. And by detecting the tobacco-cloud, the system unlocked the sealed door and let Sevastopol's commander out! To say that he was angry was an understatement… Major Winters was right now absolutely livid! The server-room was the closest to his office, and it was the poor souls working there that took the full tantrum of his rage.

" _What the hell is going on here?!_ " he roared as he caught sight of the people.

"Sir?!" one of the techs stammered as he saw red in Winters' face. "We… we're trying to get this done as fast as we…"

"I will have somebody's head for this!" the commander continued to scream. "I've been trapped in my office for three hours! _Three fucking hours!_ Who is responsible for this _incompetence?!_ "

"In your office?" the junior technician who acted as a courier questioned. "But that can't be? I saw you in…"

The commander strode over and towered over the young tech in a menacing manner as he glared down on him. "Can't be?! Had you expected me to be somewhere _else?!_ Was it perhaps YOU who did something to my door so that I couldn't get out?!"

"N-no, NO! I – I wouldn't dream of it, SIR!"

"I just bet you wouldn't!" He turned to the other technicians. "Well, aren't you going to give me an excuse as well? Did somebody tamper with the door controls or what?"

"Sir, it was a result of the sabotage!" one of the techs quickly explained. "But we though that you…"

" _What_ sabotage?" Winters roared. "Who did a sabotage?"

The technicians couldn't understand how come they had to explain it again. "That _girl_ on the loose – the one _you_ didn't bother much about – she got in here and ripped out the lines to three of our servers!"

"The _brat_ did this? How did she get in there?!"

"Through the vent! That's how we determined that it was her! Nobody else could have done it!"

"But that doesn't answer the question why you didn't come and find me as soon as the crisis occurred!" Winters said, trying to save his face.

"We did!" the junior tech persisted. "You've been in the command center, giving orders!"

"That's _preposterous!_ I've been locked in my room for _three hours_ , I keep telling you!"

"You were _there_ , Sir! I _saw_ you! So did the staff _working_ there! They can corroborate it!"

" _I can't be at two places at the same time!_ "

One of the other techs then cut in: "Then there can only be one explanation, even if it sounds improbable: Someone was _posing_ as you, Sir. An _impostor!_ "

Winters was about to object to that ludicrous though, but he stopped himself before doing so. What if it was true? Was somebody really posing as him? That could explain why somebody had put him out of commission by locking him up in his office for all those hours.

"You want proof, Sir?" the junior tech inflicted. "Then you should head for the command center! He might still be there!" The major said nothing as he knew that he had to do so. If there really was an impostor onboard, then he needed to be exposed and dealt with quickly! He turned on his heel, but not before telling the personnel to keep working. As he walked he went over what he had learned since the past few minutes, and to his despair, Winters knew that he was looking at his career completely falling apart. He _had_ made the decision to not bother searching for the girl as he hadn't thought that she would pose any threat - and yet the brat _had_ managed to infiltrate and sabotage many of their delicate systems. And now with people saying that there was an impostor posing as him on the station… what kind of orders had the fraud been giving in _his_ name? The security and directory of Sevastopol was after all his responsibility; when the word of this blunder would reach his superiors on Earth, he would be looking at unemployment along with the ex-Captain Cinch of the _P.C. Cerberus_.

The fire alarm was still blaring all over Sevastopol - yet on his way to the command center, as he came to the center-disc of the station where all three towers connected, Major Winters noted that there was a commotion going on at the entrance to the civilian sector.

"You really need to report to the shelter!" a guard was saying. "During an emergency, all civilians must remain there until the crisis is solved!"

"The work of the church takes precedence," a more calmer voice argued. "I humbly ask you to let me through!"

Winters couldn't believe it: it was Father Patrick – the priest the major had been sure that Corporal Hicks and the old man had killed! Was he still alive?! Had he made a mistake of that as well?

"What's going on here?" the major asked, approaching the group.

"Major!" the guards stood at attention. "The priest here insists of being let through to look for the prisoners who escaped when the fire started."

"I wish to aid you in your search," Father Patrick said. "I want to talk to them and perhaps make them reconsider their choices. Running won't solve anything. If I can save their souls, then I can't pass up the opportunity."

Winters rolled his eyes – he did not have time for such superstitious drivel. "That's out of the question, Father!" the major said, not very politely. "We can't risk having desperate men taking a civilian as a hostage, you will be too much of a security risk!"

"The Lord will protect me…"

"It won't happen, Father! Please return to the shelter!" Winters barked.

"Then may I at least have a moment of your time, Major?" the priest then countered.

"Time is what I don't have right now…"

"Please. I will make it worth your while – and afterwards I swear that I won't bother you or your men again."

Winters sucked on his cigar, thinking it over. It would be good if the priest wouldn't bother any of the guards again, so he reluctantly agreed. "It will have to be quick!" he said.

"It will be, I promise you." Father Patrick motioned for the major to come with him further inside tower three. Since all the civilian visitors had been directed to the shelters when the current crisis first occurred, the shopping district was all deserted. No one would overhear their discussion. When they were out of earshot from the guards, as well as sight, Winters turned to the priest. "All right, Father, let's get this over with quickly!"

"As you wish," Father Patrick said, turning to him.

TSCHAK!

"GHARCK!" Major Winters groaned, as a sword which had come seemingly out of nowhere suddenly punched right through his chest and out of the back, cleaving his heart in two. Death was instantaneous. The sword was retracted from the torso and the dead body of the major dropped to the deck. The 'father' looked at the bloody silvery blade which had been shaped from his fore-arm curiously, and then the sword 'melted' and became an arm again. However, the whole body of the priest was undergoing a transformation now. His body melted into silver, reshaped, and was formed into a perfect image of the late major. The T-1000, in the image of the commander of Sevastopol, walked back to where he had come, not sparing a single glance at the man he had just killed. When he reached the guards who had blocked his path before, he simply walked past them. They would not stop him now as all what they saw was the major coming back. "Carry on," was all he said before he walked away. The guards saluted, suspecting nothing. With the disguise of the major, the T-1000 could walk around the station as he pleased. There was however only one area that interested him: the area where the targets he was here to kill would gather!

* * *

Pops had dropped his disguise as major Winters – he had done so right after he had left the Command Center. The old Terminator knew that the commander of the station would come out of his locked office sooner or later as the personnel re-established control of the systems that had been severed. It was best to not risk being compromised posing as the major as it would delay him considerably. Aside from that, Pops were not concerned with the risk of being caught. The actions of the rogue crew of the _Ghost Rider_ had thrown the personnel of Sevastopol II into disarray. Half the station-crew were right now busy handling the technical problems that Pops' plan had caused, which included fixing the malfunctions and battling the electrical fires. The other half was on riot control: not only were they chasing down the escapees from the detention cells that had been opened when the fire alert came on, he knew that some of the civilian visitors were also quite upset with the situation and would not sit down calmly in the shelters. As the guards were busy 'calming' those down, no one would have time to bother about Pops wandering around.

The next course of action for the rogue team was to leave the station now when they had this open chance to do so without anybody able to stop them, but Pops was not ready to head for the hangar just yet – first he had to locate his protégée. No matter what Pops did, his first priority was always to protect the young child, the last descendant of Sarah Connor. No matter what the situation was, he would not deviate from that responsibility. It was his programming, his mission.  
As a Terminator, Pops always took every consideration into account for a mission to go efficiently. That was why while he had access to the computer in the command center had called up the charts of the ventilation system up on the screen and memorized them. Thanks to that, he could make an assumption where the girl should be positioned right now within the maze of the ventilation network. Walking into a corridor that was for the moment devoid of people, he found the grille in the wall he was looking for. He stepped up to the cover and spoke into it with his usual monotone voice. "Caroline Connor!"

It took only a few seconds until Newt shoved up behind the fender of the grille, relief evident on a worried face. "Pops!" she whispered. "I got a problem! I can't go back the way I came without being discovered, there are guards close to every entry. And these other covers are screwed to the wall, I can't budge them! I'm _trapped_ in here!"

"That is not a problem, Caroline Connor," Pops said and reached up to the grille with his arm. With one single tug, he ripped off the cover to the vent, making an exit for the child. "You can get out now," he said simply. Now when she had a clear path, the girl began to squirm herself out of the tight duct. The cyborg reached up to help her – he pulled her out and put the child down on the deck. Afterwards he took a good look at her, letting his gaze sweep her over from top to toes.

"What?" she asked, seeing him staring so intently at her.

"You are in need of a bath, Caroline Connor," Pops stated. It was true. Her whole frame was covered in grime and dust. The blue-colored bib and brace overall was so ingrained with dirt that they had discolored into an almost dark-greenish tone, and the white blouse had yellowed. There was something that resembled soot on her face and a lot more of it in her hair. Her black fingertips spoke for themselves. Pops wouldn't know it, but she looked a lot like when the rescue-team of marines had found her on LV-426 a little over a year ago.

"It wasn't exactly clean in there!" the girl said to her defense, sounding somewhat fretful for being accused of becoming filthy. "And would you please _stop_ calling me that?" She was referring to the fake name Hicks had come up with when they were about to land on Sevastopol.

"Not until we're off this station!" Pops made it into a point. "As far as we know, you are still believed to be dead. I won't risk having you identified by speaking your name when not in a private place. Now let's get back to the ship before we are discovered." He took her by her hand and began to lead her away back to the hangar where the _Ghost Rider_ awaited them.

"What about Hicks and Ripley?" Newt asked. "Shouldn't we find them?"

"If you told them to head directly for docking bay 16 when the cells opened like I asked you to, then that's where they will be waiting." He didn't tell her that if they _weren't_ there, he would be considering taking off anyway.

* * *

Hicks could no longer remain in the vapor-filled corridors of the detention area. He was almost choking on the gases of smoke from the electrical fire and the geysers of the fire suppressing systems. He needed to breath fresh air, so he had no choice but to evacuate. It disturbed him, because he had not been able to find Ripley. He had glanced into each cell as he had stumbled through the passage-ways, but they were all empty as well as the corridors. He was beginning to think that she must have fled the same way those other incarcerated had gone in the panic of a fire, but that could mean that she could be anywhere on the station and being hunted down by the guards. He would have to think this through as soon as he had replenished his oxygen into his lungs.

He needed not have to worry. As soon as he got out of the smoke-filled corridor, coughing and with red eyes, he spotted the woman. Ripley stood by the side catching her own breath, also coughing loudly. The guards of Sevastopol assigned to cover the entrance/exit of the brig lay on the deck nearby, unconscious. Obviously the first escapees from detention had overpowered the men when they had run for their freedom and had knocked the guards out. Naturally, their weapons were gone. Ripley turned around when she detected a presence behind her – she moved into a battle-stance, ready to fight. "Whoa! Ripley!" Hicks blurted out. The woman visibly relaxed when she caught the familiar face.

"Hicks," she acknowledged and coughed some more. "Is this your idea of springing a prisoner?"

"Cut me some slack, will ya – I'm not the brainstorm of this fire!" Hicks coughed. "Yet you have to admit that it worked. And ' _cough_ ' apparently, all the guards must be busy chasing the others who were locked up. No one had the time for us. ' _Cough, cough._ ' We should therefore get out of here now while we have the chance! I've got a ship in the hangar – let's get there quickly!"

Without waiting for her approval, Hicks took Ripley by her hand and dragged her with him - fortunately she didn't seem to object. Only once while on their way did they have to duck down behind a corner when a group of guards came rushing by from a side-corridor, probably heading to assist some colleagues in another section of the station. Once they had passed, the soldier with the woman in tow continued in their own heading towards the hangar. Hicks rejoiced when he caught sight of the familiar shape of a dropship, he felt like he was seeing an old friend. There was no one around thanks to the current crisis going on the station, so they were home-free. The duo rushed to the ship and got to the back of it. Hicks pulled a lever underneath the hull and released the stairs of the crew door. Once they were onboard the ship they took a moment to relish in the moment of safety even though they were not out of the woods yet. To the corporal's relief the interior looked relatively untouched which meant that no unauthorized person had been inside, but the emptiness also gave him a serious concern: neither Pops nor Newt were there! That was not good! There was no way Hicks would leave without the child and he knew without a doubt that Ripley wouldn't either. Without saying a word, he went up to the weapons-locker and picked up a pulse-rifle. In one sweep he grabbed a magazine and slapped it into place of the big gun. He hated the idea of going back out, but he stood by the soldier-mantra: they'd all go home or nobody goes home!

He was about to hand another rifle to Ripley when he heard footsteps on the ramp outside. Somebody else was coming into the ship! Hicks took position behind the bulk of one of the FTL-engines. The motors which gave the modified dropship the ability to fly long distances in space stood on either side of the crew door, leaving a pathway that was best described as a service-corridor. The intruders were about to come into view and the soldier stepped out to greet them with a raised weapon – fortunately he had no need to use it.  
"Oh, it's you," he said as he spotted Pops. And to his great relief, Newt was also with him. "Are you okay, kiddo?" he asked the girl. Newt didn't answer him, because just then she spotted Ripley and in that moment nothing else mattered to her. The child was about to rush to the adult, but her run was abruptly halted when Pops grabbed hold of her braces and held her in place.

"Hold it!" he warned her. Pops' reason for concern was revealed in the next second. Unbeknownst to the party of four, there already _were_ another person onboard, one who just came out through the doorway from the cockpit.

"Well, it's about _time_ you shoved up!" the new person said. "I was starting to think I got aboard the wrong…" But here the person stopped talking as the newcomer caught sight of the shocked faces of the crew and it was no wonder why. The fifth person who had just come into view was _another Ellen Ripley!_

"What the hell…?!" Hicks sputtered in disbelief as he shifted his gaze between the two identical women. "What's going on?! How can this be?!"

"There is only one possible explanation," pops said in his usual leveled tone. "One of them is the _T-1000!_ It must have come into physical contact with her at some point for it to sample her genetic structure and assume her form. We got a problem! I cannot determine who's who!"


	29. Ripley x 2

This was awkward, Hicks thought, having to hold a woman he very much respected at gunpoint. But was it really the real woman, or was it not? He couldn't tell! There were two Ellen Ripley's sitting in front of him, two virtually identical in appearance. The soldier knew that one of them was a fake; a machine composed of liquid metal called a T-1000 who was there to kill them all at the first chance it got. That was why he couldn't risk go near either of the women. A blood-screening would be able to determine the true identity of each of the subjects, but Pops had immediately recommended against it – the T-1000 _wanted_ one of them to come near it as it would easily kill one of the three present subjects it had come to terminate. Hicks, Ripley and little Newt: they were all on the Terminator's hitlist. Not even Pops could risk going near it; if he was taken by surprise by the T-1000, he could become severely damaged and rendered unable to protect the humans, and the enemy machine would be free to kill them all.

Right now, the two Ripley's sat in two separate folding chairs at a safe distance from the crew of the _Ghost Rider_ , apart from each other. Hicks kept his rifle trained to the left one while Pops covered the other to the right with a weapon of his own. Newt stood behind the soldier and the machine, nervously wringing her hands as she was uncomfortable with the situation. As if it wasn't bad enough that they had a killing robot onboard which they were unable to identify, there was a highly potential risk for Ripley's life – she feared losing the adult now when she finally was so close to be with her again. Hicks were well aware of the child's discomfort, and he once again blamed himself for being such a careless fellow. During the confusion when catching sight of another Ripley, Hicks had somehow in his shock managed to lose track on which one of them he had brought onboard! And that made it even more impossible to tell them apart! Not even his 'droid-detector' which he carried on his wrist was of any help. It could only detect the presence of an EM-field, but not where it originated from. And that wasn't their only problem…

Again he threw a glance at an active monitor on the side of the interior bulk, which was showing what was going on outside the ship within the hangar. So far there's was no activity which would give cause for an alarm – the area outside was devoid of both people and activity. The personnel of Sevastopol were all busy in other areas restoring the chaos Hicks' group had caused. But there's was no telling how long it would remain that way.  
"We need to come up with a solution to this dilemma, and fast," Hicks needlessly informed Pops. "We cannot _stay_ here! Soon the guards will have rounded up all the prisoners that escaped from the cells and find that we are missing! _This_ is the first place they will come look for us!"

Pops were not surprisingly untroubled. "Any insight you may have to help determine which one of those is the real Ellen Ripley, feel free to share it." Hicks threw a reproachful glare at the other. Was the cyborg attempting to be sarcastic?

"Hicks, you should know me well enough to see that I am the real one!" one of the Ripley's calmly said.

"Don't listen to her!" the other woman countered with a bit more heated voice. "She's the fake!"

"That is not very helping," Pops said neutrally to the two.

"All right," Hicks said. "let's think this through logically! The one I found outside of detention must be the real Ripley!"

"Why?" Pops asked.

"Because I'm a target! Had it been the T-1000 it could easily have killed me and taken my place! Then it would have come here to wait for you!"

"That would be the T-1000's best chance for completing its mission," Pops agreed. "But there's one factor you haven't included."

"Which one?" Hicks asked slightly irritated.

"Me! The T-1000 knew that I had teamed up with you. As a Terminator, I could see through the disguise with my sensors from a distance and it concluded that I might have been able to prevent it to come onboard before the rest of you escaped. It had to get onboard first and have you all gathered before it would make its strike."

"Are you saying that you can see through its disguise? Then why haven't you already _done_ so with all those sophisticated sensors of yours?!"

"I can no longer do so. My power-cell is now depleted to the level that many of my supporting systems has been shut down to conserve my energy – including deep-level scanners. I only got basic sensors now to register with."

"Well, _that's_ mighty convenient!" Hicks grunted. "But I think my theory is sound."

"Well, which one of them _did_ you bring onboard?" Pops asked.

"Her!" both women said in unison, each indicating to the other.

"Well, that settles that!" Pops concluded, strangely with what sounded like an amused tone. "The real Ripley would have no reason to lie. It really _**was**_ the T-1000 you brought onboard!"

Hicks looked like he was ready to shoot himself. "Fuck…" he said miserably.

"Language, Corporal," the cyborg scolded him. "There are children present." Hicks was about to retort, but then he thought that the other might have raised a good point.

"Look, honey…" he addressed the child. "Maybe you should go further into the back, in case things get ugly…"

"I'm not going _anywhere!_ " the girl said resolutely. "I'm staying where Ripley is!"

"This is a dangerous situation, Caroline Connor," Pops told her. "The T-1000 will attempt to get to you…"

"He will have to go through you first to get to me, won't he?" she pointed out. "I'm _staying_ , and that's that!"

"You're as stubborn as my Sarah, Caroline Connor!"

"What's he talking about?" one of the Ripley's said. "Why's he calling her that?" Hicks noticed that both women looked somewhat indignant, the T-1000 was therefore smart enough to even fake Ripley's feelings for the child. That made him think of something…

"What was the name of your daughter?" he asked them, hoping to catch them off guard.

"Amanda!" they both said at the same time. One continued: "And I would appreciate that you refrain from bringing her up like that!"  
"It's still a painful matter that I haven't gotten the time to deal with!" the other finished sourly.

"Darn!" Hicks exclaimed. "They both knew that!"

"The T-1000 wouldn't be much of an infiltrator if it hadn't looked up all of her files," Pops explained. "If the information is recorded, then it knows everything Ellen Ripley knows."

"God dammit!" Hicks cursed, exasperated. He threw another glance at the monitor, saw that the hangar was still empty. "We don't have _time_ for this _!_ The guards might come here any second! There must be a way to determine who's who!"

"There is," Pops said. "I could shoot them in the legs."

" _What?!_ " Hicks couldn't believe what the cyborg was suggesting, and neither could the women who both looked nervous.

"It would quickly expose the T-1000, and Ellen Ripley would live."

"But it would _cripple_ her! I don't think she would ever forgive me for doing something like that!"

"You need to make a decision _now_ , Dwayne Hicks! As you said; we don't have time for this."

Newt remained behind the men, listening to the argument. It pained her tremendously that she had nothing to contribute with that might help solve the problem – like them, she couldn't tell who was who of the two Ripley's. The situation gave her the shivers. She feared for Ripley, just like she feared for all of them and didn't want her to get hurt. The child bit her lip and looked up in an attempt to catch the women's eyes, even though she knew that she shouldn't. One of them looked back and gave her a smile. Could that be the real one? Newt let her gaze sweep over to the other one. That woman made eye-contact with her as well, but the response was different. It was not a jovial look, but besides that the child found it unreadable. The stale expression of a killing machine bidding its time perhaps? Or was it something else…? The other Ripley on the other hand kept smiling at her, like if she was giving the child a look of reassurance. Newt instinctively took a step forward.

"Caroline Connor!" Pops' stale, yet harsh tone halted her. "Stand your ground!"

The Ripley to the left, the one who had smiled at her gave a harsh tone of her own. "Why do you keep calling her that?! That isn't her name! And what gives you the right to command her anyway?"

"My relation to Caroline Connor is of no concern of yours." Pops declared.

"It _darn well_ is!" the other Ripley spat.

"Stop _calling_ her that!" the first one injected at the same time. It was at that moment the child had a brainstorm of her own.

"Ripley… the _real_ one… would call me by my _real_ name."

The smile returned to the woman sitting to the left. "As I _always_ would, Rebecca, honey."

The last syllable had barely left the woman's mouth before Hicks opened fire with his rifle and sprayed her torso with a barrage of armor-piercing high-velocity projectiles. The woman was thrown backwards out of her chair while multiple holes blossomed on her chest – _silvery_ holes! Pops joined in on the shooting as well as he saw that it indeed was the T-1000. Now as the other woman's identity was confirmed to be the genuine article, the child rushed up to the adult, crying out the only word that came to her mind.

" _Mommy!_ "

The girl threw herself into the woman's arms, wrapping her small limbs around the other's neck and the adult was not slow with embracing her, hugging the child tightly to her chest. "At last, sweetie," Ripley whispered into the tiny ear as she rocked the small body. "At last!" She could feel the girl's tears soaking her neck and her own cheeks were getting wet as well. After a whole long year, the child was finally back in her arms where she belonged.

Meanwhile the shooting had ceased and the fraud woman lay motionless on the deck with the chest looking like silver-colored swiss cheese.  
"Corporal Hicks," Pops addressed the soldier. "How did you know that wasn't the real one?"

"I _figured_ you Terminators were too _systematic_ to think outside of the box!" Hicks said almost smugly. "The real Ripley would never have called her by her birth-name on file – her real name _is_ Newt, and always has been!"

"I was hoping you would figure that out, that's why I didn't say much," Ripley said from her side, not breaking the embrace. She turned her head and glanced at the motionless form. "Is it dead?"

The answer to Ripley's question became immediately evident, and it was not in their favor. Her fallen duplicate suddenly lost both color and form and became a shapeless silvery mass on the deck. The liquid metal bobbed like a giant bloated balloon.

"Negative," was Pops' flat answer. From the center of the silvery substance a blob suddenly began to rise and it was bringing the rest of the mass with it as it floated higher up. Hicks cursed and fired off another round at his adversary, but this time his bullets only went straight through as the current floating liquid did for the moment not have the same density as it did before. Fortunately though it was enough to degrade the velocity of the bullets so that it did not breach the hull of the ship as the projectiles impacted on the bulk.

"Your weapons will not do you any good against a T-1000, Corporal Hicks!" Pops informed him as they backed away. The liquid was now beginning to take a humanoid shape.

"We can't kill it? Then we'll have to get it _out_ of here! We have to…" But then he saw in the monitor he had viewed before that the option was no longer available to them. "Darn it! The Sevastopol guards just entered the hangar and are headed straight for us! We're out of time!"

"Get into the cockpit!" Pops told the humans. "I'll deal with the T-1000!" The poly-alloy killing machine was now completing its transformation. It had reverted into the image of father Patrick as mimicking Ripley no longer gave it any advantage. It was about to move in for the kill when Pops slammed in to it, pushing it against the wall. "GO!" Pops urged as he held the other in a clinch. "Get into the cockpit and lock the door! Take off!"

"With that thing onboard?" Hicks questioned, but it was Ripley who took charge. Holding the child tightly in a one-arm grip, she rushed through the door into the cockpit and pulled the soldier with her with her other hand. "This is no time to argue, Hicks! Just do what he says!" When the humans were all inside the cramped compartment of the pilots, Ripley slammed a switch and the door rolled shut, sealing them off from the fighting cyborgs. The last they saw of them was how the T-1000 slugged the old T-800 and made him stagger backwards. They made sure to seal the door and Hicks took position to cover it.

"Ripley! Do you think you can fly this crate?" the soldier asked.

"I believe so!" Ripley replied as she put Newt down and took position at the helm. "I was busy doing pre-flight procedures while I was waiting for you! Controls are pretty standard!" Ripley flipped the main switches and the engines roared to life. Throwing a glance out through the windshield, she saw how the approaching guards out in the hangar became startled of the activity. "Well, the guards know we're onboard now," Ripley muttered. "Not to sound ungrateful, Hicks, but coming here to spring me from jail isn't exactly going to help me to prove my innocence to the board for parole!"

"Well, welcome to the club, Ripley!" Hicks retorted. "If you knew how many regulations I've violated to get here…" Just then a loud metallic crash from the back resonated through the ship, which effectively stopped their argument.

"Can that guy stop that thing?" Ripley asked.

"I don't dare answer that," the soldier confessed. "But I do know that the stakes are potentially higher that the T-1000 has the upper hand. But Pops isn't one who'll just give up, so there's a great risk that they'll wreck the ship first before either can claim victory."

* * *

The man leading the team of a four-member guard detail into the hangar was Commander Cohoe, the second-in-command of Sevastopol, but now the senior acting top after the death of Major Winters. The major's death was a mystery, even more strange since the sentries were sure that the major had headed for the command center from tower three where the body had been found. The circumstances around the major's death may make no sense, but the cause of it was clear to the commander. He was convinced that the unannounced visitors that had arrived earlier were behind all the troubles that had befallen on the station for the past hours. They were the last to be rounded up, and since they were nowhere else on the station to be found, they must've attempted to retake their ship.

At first glance when the team came into the hangar the black-colored dropship seemed to stand there completely undisturbed, like nobody had come there to claim it. But then they heard the gunshots from within…

"There's somebody onboard, allright!" one of the supporting guards said. "It must be them…!"

"And they're armed!" another stated. Commander Cohoe swore loudly. _Naturally_ they have been able to arm themselves! That ship they had come here with was a military vessel, of course it would be stocked with weapons! The handling of this 'surprise visit' has been a real disaster from the start and he didn't dare to think who would be made to pay for this blunder.

"Well, it's our job to take them back into custody," Cohoe said melancholy as he pulled his sidearm. "We'll storm them and request their unconditional surrendering unless they want to get shot."

"But they're armed!" one of the guards needlessly reminded his commander. "Shouldn't we call in some reinforcements?"

"There's four of _us_ against four of _them_ , and one is a _kid!_ " Cohoe angrily pointed out. "We should be able to take them. Remember, you're _trained_ for riot control!"

"Yeah, but even at those times we're supposed to have back-up…" another began to mutter.

"Enough!" Cohoe told his men sternly. We will go in and we will arrest them. It's our duty!" But as they stepped closer to the ship to board it, something happened that they had not anticipated. The engines roared to life and the ship began to levitate.

"What are they doing?!" one of the men exclaimed. "The space-doors are closed, they can't go anywhere!" The ship began to pivot around above the deck of the hangar, facing them. And suddenly, the modified UD-4L Cheyenne Dropship's missile-racks flipped out. Commander Cohoe saw through the windshield the determined face of Ellen Ripley at the stick looking at him intently, as if to give him a warning. Then the ship continued its 180-degree rotation, facing the hangar-bay doors.

"She… she won't do that, will she?" another asked nervously. "She's not about to fire a missile and blast away the space-doors, exposing us to vacuum while we're in here?"

Cohoe could still see the woman looking at him through the windshield and he realized her actions. "She will! She blew up a civilian colony and an army of marines, why wouldn't she do that to us? She's _really_ going to do it! _Everybody out, now!_ " None were needed to be told twice. They all turned tail and headed back the way they came to escape what was coming.

* * *

"What are you waiting for?" Hicks asked Ripley from his position at the door. "Just blast away those doors with a couple of missiles so that we can get out of here. What's the hold-up?"

"I need to make sure that those men get to safety and seal their own barriers," Ripley said resolutely as she watched the fleeing men through the windshield. "They may have convicted me for it, but despite what they are saying, I am _not_ a killer! I won't take a human life!"

"Oh… right, of course," Hicks conceded. He should have thought of that, but ever since LV-426 he had a hard time living up to his usual standards to think before he said anything. The nasty bugs he'd encountered there could really change a man. "Just don't forget to raise the shields on our front – and while you're at it: shut off the echo-mode! That purple lever to your left."

"Echo-mode?" Ripley questioned as the hit the switch to 'off'.

"This is a stealth-ship. Our hull is coated with 'blackball'-paint which resists radar – but I couldn't risk approaching the station without letting them detect us as we were pretending to be in an emergency, they might have considered us enemies and shot us down. The echo-emitter sends the radar-signals back to the source so that they could see us – but we need to be invisible to radar again as we make our escape."

"How did you come by this ship anyway?" Ripley asked, although she suspected that she already knew the answer.

"I'd rather not get into that right now…" the soldier said, confirming the woman's thoughts.

"Okay, the guards are cleared…" Ripley then announced, seeing the doors seal tight out in the hangar. "Hold on, Newt." The girl had stood quietly beside the pilot's chair the whole time, not wanting to part from the adult. She took a firm hold onto the chair, preparing herself.  
"Here we go!" Ripley pressed the triggers on the sticks and two rockets were shot from the racks. The missiles impacted on the space-doors and blew them out into the void, allowing the oxygen within the hangar to escape. The _Ghost Rider_ were sucked out together with the air and the sudden momentum hurled them away from Sevastopol II, into space and freedom. They were clear from the station, but they were not out of the woods. There was still a danger onboard with them.

"Sounds like they're beating each other to pieces back there," Hicks commented, listening to the commotion through the door that sealed them from the combatants in the back of the ship.

* * *

There seemed to be no way for Pops to win. Each hit he gave to his foe, the T-1000 would just shrug it off and resume fighting. The molecules of the liquid metal the false priest consisted of could be knocked out of position, but the advanced terminator would without trouble just arrange it back by flowing its alloy and come out of it unscathed. Pops did not have that advantage – he had poly-alloy in his body too, but only as a thin layer outside of his old terminator-chasse. Underneath he was still a solid machine and it could become damaged from the powerful blows delivered by the other. His diagnostics were already warning him of the injuries he'd sustained so far. There was no point in going for the weapons stashed within the ship – the T-1000 would only be temporarily slowed down by such, but not stopped. Pops only hope were to keep it busy, hoping (in the sense that a cyborg could feel hope) that he could somehow wear the T-1000 out – but he knew that he himself would be drained of power long before that happened.

Pops sidestepped an attempted punch from his adversary – he took hold of the outstretched arm and used the momentum that the other itself had initiated to hurl his foe face-first into the bulkhead. The T-1000 was not swayed – it didn't even bother to turn around. The fake priest used the alloy to reverse its body, making the back of his head become the face and allow the rest of his body to follow suit – and then he charged again. Pops met him on the way. The older machine raise his arm and slammed it into the face of the approaching menace, punching his fist straight through the head.  
Unfortunately, it didn't do any good at all – the T-1000 flowed its mass again, grabbing a tight hold on Pops' arm with the alloy and rearranged himself to retake humanoid shape outside of Pops' limb that formerly had penetrated the mass and now the liquid entity held the other in a tight grip with its arms and was free to kick the rogue unit hard in the abdomen, threatening to break him in half.

The humans in the cockpit couldn't see what was happening through the closed door - but they could hear it, and they even felt the vibrations that was carried through the hull of the ship from the fight.

"Hicks…" Newt addressed the soldier. "Is there nothing we can do?"

The adult could only solemnly shake his head in reply to the child. He couldn't come up with any idea that would help her mechanized friend without endangering them as well. Hicks had no plan… but Ripley did! She had no intention of telling her companions what her thoughts were though as they might not be willing to go along with it – but Ripley knew that there could be no other choice. Right now they were flying over the gas giant of KG348, which comprised largely of molecular hydrogen. The surface of the gas giant illuminated the belly of the modified craft, giving the cockpit an eerie glow. It was in that glow that Ripley found the lever she needed (she had already programmed the computer to override the safety-catch) – there was a moment's hesitation, and then she flipped it, repeating an action she had done twice before when the odds against her were overwhelming.

In the back of the dropship, the combatants suddenly held up in their battle as a new situation appraised itself, something neither had expected: the sudden opening of the crew door in the back! In an instant the air was being sucked out, and the rushing wind carried the two machines with it. Not missing a beat, Pops grabbed hold of some handle-bars to keep himself inside, fighting against the natural force. The T-1000 was doing the same, but this time it was _it_ that was at a disadvantage!  
Pops was basically an upgraded T-800: he was a robot skeleton underneath his cover – he therefore had an internal structure that helped support him against the pull – he was anchored to the ship as he held on to the bar. The t-1000 on the other hand was all liquid metal - it had no solid internal structure that could support it! His fingers which were the thinnest and therefore the weakest links broke and he flew backwards towards the gaping maw into space.

There wasn't much air within the _Ghost Rider's_ aft compartment though – the T-1000 rode with the last of the escaping oxygen and it lost the hold of the machine when the rest of it was sucked out. The T-1000 managed just in time to grab hold of the ramp-struts and halt his flight. The cold vacuum of space was already freezing it, so it scrambled to get back onboard through the opening. As it climbed the stairs of the crew door however, the T-1000 suddenly found itself face to face with the rogue unit. In the vacuum of space no sounds could be heard, so Pops spoke to it via radio communication – and his words were as clear as they were final:

"Get out!"

Pops delivered a hard kick to the liquid entity whose density was almost frozen stiff by the coldness of space – that was why the T-1000 was unable to withstand the impact. The fake priest tumbled out into space. No sound could be heard, and yet Pops was sure that he heard a hollow metallic wail escape from expelled body as it fell away from the dropship. Pops followed it for a short moment with his sensors. It wasn't long before the gravity of KG348 grabbed hold of the falling machine. Even if it would survive the re-entry, which Pops highly doubted that it would, it would never be able to escape the surface of the stellar body. Feeling an electronic tingling which could be described as a satisfaction, Pops cycled the ramp to close before he himself would become frozen solid.

* * *

From the main viewport of Sevastopol's space control center, Commander Cohoe could only watch helplessly as the ship became a small dot in space until it disappeared completely. Even if they could track them by radar, which they couldn't, they had no means to stop their escape - the station's outer defenses were still un-operational after the sabotage in the server-room. Cohoe supposed he would have to report this back to the Security-department of the Company on Earth. They would not be happy when they hear about this – but Cohoe realized that he actually didn't care about their reaction. Although Corporal Hicks and his little band of transgressors had left behind quite a mess for the people on Sevastopol to clean up, he found that he really wished them good luck.

The incident in the hangar had given him another view of his opinion for the prisoners that had escaped. Ellen Ripley was a fabled mass-murderer, accused for destroying the colony on LV-426 – and yet in the hangar she had spared them. She could easily have blasted the doors and killed them all, but she hadn't. That made him wonder if not there was some kind of framing going on, and if there were, then he wished them the best of luck to clear their names. Woe the one who had done them wrong.

* * *

Everything was quiet in the cockpit, and it had been ever since Ripley had pulled the lever. The door sealing them from the aft to the cockpit was airtight, so no oxygen had escaped from their area. Hicks couldn't believe that she really had done that, although her actions meant that she had saved them. But it seemed like a betrayal for having sacrificed Pops like that. Ripley understood his resentment, but she could live with it. It was the fact that Newt looked the most disappointed that hurt the woman the most. She prayed that she could explain it to the girl and make her understand.

By now the air had replenished in the aft and the temperature was back to normal. Hicks opened the door as he was going to investigate the extent of the damage caused by the fighting and then the exposure to vacuum – and he jerked back as he saw who was standing behind the door.

" _Pops?!_ " he exclaimed.

"Pops?!" Newt reacted as well, her face spreading a happy grin. "You're okay!"

"Indeed I am, Newt Connor," Pops confirmed. The girl was pleased that he finally had given up the false name on her.

"How did you…? Where's the T-1000?" Hicks asked.

"Terminated!"

"How can we be certain?" the soldier asked suspiciously. He raised his rifle and pointed it at the cyborg. "How do I know that you're you?" Pops flashed him his patented smile. "All right, I'm convinced!" Hicks said in disgust of the ugly grin Pops displayed and he lowered the weapon.

"Ellen Ripley!" Pops addressed the woman. "How did you know I would survive?"

There was a moment pause before she answered. "I didn't." She turned her head and looked straight at him. "Look, I understand that you're angry… and I'm sorry, but I had to do _something!_ I saw what that thing was capable of, and to be honest, I didn't think you would prevail! That T-1000 would've defeated you and then it would've come for us! I _had_ to do something it wouldn't have expected for us to get rid of it! It wasn't an easy decision to make, but I did! You would have been destroyed anyway if I hadn't!"

"I would have," Pops confirmed. "And that would have failed my mission."

"Which is?"

"To ensure the safety of Newt Connor."

"That is _my_ main concern too!" Ripley said. "I won't let _any_ harm come to her!"

"Then your apology is not necessary. I would've done the same to protect Newt Connor!"

"You keep calling her 'Connor'! Why? Who are you anyway?" The woman hit a switch on the board and got up from the chair and faced everybody. "We're safe now! We're clear of Sevastopol and we're on course back to Earth with the autopilot engaged! So, would somebody finally please tell me: _what the fuck is going on?!_ "

Hicks gave a nod to Pops. "Well, you're the historian: you tell her. I'm going to make some coffee." And with that Hicks left and headed to the back, leaving Pops to tell the history of Sarah Connor, Skynet, and the war against the machines again.


	30. Battle of the mind

Author's notes: We have now reached the thirtieth chapter, and there's a little over 4.500 hits on this story, meaning it is read frequently! It is pleasing to see that there are many people who enjoy this little fantasy of mine. It is amazing, really: when I began writing this story I thought it would be a short one, maybe seventeen chapters. I never expected it to go this far – it's even longer than my first fanfic: Alien: Prodigals. Thank you all of you who has followed me this far.

Michael (Guest): Thank you so much for your kind words in your review. Everything is fine now.

But let's get on with the story now, shall we?

* * *

The supplies within the storage compartments of the modified UD-4L Cheyenne landing craft had fared quite well despite the recent depressurization. As the _Ghost Rider_ was basically a dropship, it was designed to withstand rough flights – the storage-doors were sealed tightly to prevent those to be knocked open by turbulence and the goods inside were packed securely. It was within those Ripley had found a package of disposable washcloths and bottled water. Now, just like the first time she had met the girl, she was cleaning the delicate skin of the child to wipe away the dirt and grime Newt had collected in her little venture within the air-ducts. One difference from the first time was that the adult was not speaking, because while she did this she was listening to the Terminator telling the story of the Judgement Day which never happened in the past, but might yet do in the future.

Pops in turn was keeping a close watch on the woman while he told her the story. As he no longer had deep-level sensors-readings to his disposal after those had automatically shut down to conserve his continuingly depleting power, he used his sensors to read the child's body-language while she sat under the other's care. Any sight of discomfort and he would step in to separate them. But curiously to him, the child seemed to be completely relaxed. Pops examined how Ripley handled the cloth, cleaning the girl's right fore-arm. It was a perfectly balanced pressure, just hard enough to scrape off the dirt, yet still softly to not cause the skin any irritation. Newt sat patiently still during the entire procedure. Ever since Pops had shielded her from the attack of the first terminator and taken her under his care, the child had never looked as content as she did now.

"You know, if I hadn't seen that thing with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed any of this shit!" Ripley said after Pops had finished his tale. "So let me get this straight… we survive LV-426 and because of that those terminators want to kill the three of us?"

"That's Corporal Hicks' theory," Pops pointed out. "But the events that transpired there is inconsequential to Skynet."

"Pops insists that it's only because of Newt's heritage that Skynet seeks to take precaution that no Connor interferes with its goals again," Hicks said as he put a cup of coffee beside the woman. "As well as my heritage to the other Kyle Reese." He gave another cup to Newt, this one containing hot chocolate.

"So where would that leave me?" Ripley asked while she finished scrubbing the girl's other arm. "As far as I know, I've got no blood-connection to either. So there has to be more to it than just your family-relations?"

"Corporal Hicks speculated that Perhaps Skynet has perceived you to be a potential threat to it because of Newt Connor's emotional attachment to you."

"That's a door that swings both ways," Ripley said, clasping the child tightly to her. Newt leaned in and rested her head against the adult's shoulder. "But you don't believe it to be the case?"

"I do not deny the fact that you share a mutual bond, but to Skynet it would be irrelevant. The data available to us is insufficient to conclude why you have been targeted by the Terminators."

"Then let us look at what we _do_ know!" Ripley gently disengaged herself from the girl and stood up. Despite having spent a year incarcerated, the woman stood regal and radiated self-control and determination. She had taken charge and Hicks found himself having no problem with it. In secret, he was attracted to it. The time in prison hadn't broken her at all – it had only fueled her rage and resolve to not let herself and those around her to be unjustly treated.

"These Terminators…" Ripley began. "They're from the future, you say?"

"Affirmative." Pops confirmed.

"And they are here to kill the three of us! But why?"

"We do not know the full answer to that question."

"Then perhaps we should put the answer we can't grasp aside and instead seek a more proper question."

"Like what?" Hicks asked.

"Why now?"

"What do you mean?" Pops asked the woman.

"Why strike at us now, in this year?" Ripley paced around while she spoke out her thoughts. "If they're from the future, then they're here in this moment to prevent something that we will _do_ , not what we already have _done!_ Surviving LV-426 is therefore part of the effect as it involves us three since we all came together there, but it is _not_ the main reason!"

"Your logic is impeccable, Ellen Ripley," Pops said. "The events of LV-426 is irrelevant to Skynet."

"Not exactly!" Ripley shot in. "It has _some_ importance – otherwise Skynet could just as well have sent the Terminators all the way back to the year 2120 to kill me even before I boarded the _Nostromo_ and landed on that rock the first time, _and_ take out the ancestors of Newt and Hicks while they were at it. We needed to survive Acheron, but it is some time after _that_ we've become a threat to Skynet!"

Hicks was intrigued. "So basically you're saying: someone wanted us to wipe out those bugs, but don't want us to live and tell the tale."

"Steps has already been implemented to keep us silent," Ripley continued. "That's why the company separated us the moment we came into close proximity to Earth!"

"The _Company?_ " Newt exclaimed. "But Ripley, aren't they the ones who wanted the monsters more than anything?"

"The Company, yes, honey – but not Skynet. It appears that the Company and the Terminators have a common goal, but for different reasons."

"Do you think they're working together?" the girl asked.

"Not today… but maybe they do in the future."

"Your logic is no longer impeccable," Pops intervened. "Skynet does not share power with humankind. It perceives all organic lifeforms as a threat."

"How can you be sure?" Ripley challenged the cyborg. "From what I gather by your story, the timeline with your Skynet has been deleted and the future was altered. Whatever survived of Skynet onto this day could very well have adapted and taken on a new approach, which could have resulted in an alliance with the one company who has the dominating power of the whole market on Earth and some planets as well! Back in your day Skynet was meant to be an A.I. defense-program under the control of the military which gave it access to all the worlds security-protocols. That is no longer available to Skynet, but through the Company it may have found another path to seize control!"

"You are speculating that Skynet is biding its time within the database of the Weyland-Yutani Company while it is waiting for the right time to strike, using the Company network to seize power of every global facility that is under their control?" Pops questioned.

"You have no idea how a man's fate can be altered with just one click of a button in our era of network automation. The big man of the Company: Michael Weyland, is a man who is looking for global domination with him alone controlling the button and he is very close to achieve it. Imagine if Skynet then took control of that button."

"Newt Connor told me that the Company was nestling their way into everything."

"She's right."

Pops stood silent for a moment. Then he finally admitted: "Your theory may have a plausibility."

Hicks couldn't help but to smile. "That's what I like about you, Ripley. You have a way of thinking in the bigger picture!" Ripley tried not to be, but she felt flattered by the praise. Hicks now took up the thread. "Okay. This could mean that Skynet itself doesn't want interference by acid-bleeding bugs, that's why it allowed us to live through LV-426 before sending those Terminators on us!"

"Right," Ripley said. "It could be that an outbreak of those creatures would halt progress and stop Skynet's own plans for world domination."

"But why want to kill us three afterwards?"

"You raise a very crucial point, Hicks. Why the _three_ of us, and not the _four_ of us?"

"Four?" Pops asked.

"You said that the Terminators are targeting us three to kill, but there were _four_ of us who escaped LV-426!"

"Bishop," Hicks snorted under his breath. "But it's true, why isn't he targeted?"

"That's why I think that Skynet has some sort of alliance with the Company. Bishop being the property of Weyland isn't likely to be considered a security risk to justify targeting him within their premises. He is already under their control as he is a synthetic."

"What good is that to us?" Hicks asked the woman.

"As he is part of the Company, he may know something that we don't. Something that can help us verify if there's any truth to my theories!"

"That is a tactically dangerous move!" Pops objected. "The Company is searching for you, and yet you are suggesting that we look up someone who belongs to them! You would be betrayed!"

"It's a chance we have to take!" Ripley persisted. "We need to get a step ahead of that third Terminator which you don't know where it's hiding! Bishop may be our best shot to get that advantage!"

"I haven't seen Bishop since he sedated me back on LV-426 and I haven't had any reason to look him up afterwards. In fact, I never wanted to see him again since I was led to believe that he had left you and Newt there to die. I have no idea where he is."

"Coincidentally," Ripley looked at the soldier. " _I_ do!"

* * *

There wasn't much more time available to them where they could talk – the depressurization had one major setback: most of the oxygen had disappeared out into the vacuum of space together with the T-1000. The three humans had to take place in the cryogenic pods during their eight-day journey back to Earth before the last of their remaining air-supply were wasted. As he had done on the journey to Sevastopol, Pops would remain behind to keep watch on all controls as he didn't require any oxygen to breath.

Newt was one year older since the time they had escaped LV-426 and was certainly big enough to do her own preparations, but Ripley was assisting her anyway. And the girl wouldn't have it any other way. It had been so long ago since she had a parental figure tucking her in to sleep, allowing her being to be entrusted to another. To her it felt good to be loved and cared for again. After being clad in her sleepwear, Ripley lifted the child into the awaiting pod, making sure she was all comfortable.

"Sleep tight now, sweetie," the adult said softly.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" she asked, remembering how the adult had been unable to be onboard the _Sulaco_ , due to the actions of the Company.

"I will, honey," Ripley replied while brushing the blond tresses back and put those behind the small ear. "That I promise you."

"What about afterwards?" The child was staring at the adult with those eyes that were older than her years. "You promised me once that you would never leave me. Will you?"

Ripley stiffened slightly… then she leaned into the pod and kissed the girl on her temple. "Sweet dreams, my dear child," she whispered before leaning back out and she activated the pod, leaving the question unanswered.

But as always there were no sweet dreams for the child. She found herself once again running over the rough terrain that reminded her of the desolated rocky wasteland of LV-426, with the metallic clamping noise of an army of terminators chasing after her.

"You can't run from the future, Rebecca Jorden!" the usual disembodied menacing voice said behind her back. "It is inevitable! Your world will die and will join in its fate! Why keep running?"

The girl gave out a brief shriek as a boulder to her left suddenly began to melt into a silvery liquid mass. A glob on the side stretched outward and shaped into a sword which was swinging right at her. She quickly bolted to her right to avoid the blade and she fled into a new direction.

"You cannot run forever, Rebecca Jorden," the disembodied voice mocked her. "You know that there is no escape! There never were! So why don't you make your choice?"

The child halted. She was back where she always ended up in her dreams; inside the cave she had no memory of entering, right in front of the opening to the crèche, the hive of the monsters. And she could as always not turn back, because in the other end she saw the red-glowing eyes of the terminators approaching. She was trapped – and she knew what was going to come next.

"Make your choice of death, Rebecca Jorden!" the disembodied voice prompted her. She had never reflected on it before, but she thought the voice sounded familiar. "You know that you won't get any help!"

"You sure won't get it from me," another voice to her side said. She turned and found Ripley standing there – but not the one she had come reacquainted with. This was the shape of how the woman had looked like when she had met her the first time in her colony. "I'm through with this, I won't risk my neck facing those again to save you!"

Earlier, Newt would have felt devastated hearing Ripley say that to her – but not this time. "Well, I didn't expect any help from you anyway!" she spat at the adult. "I expect nothing from you but _cowardice!_ "

"Is that a way to speak to your rescuer?"

" _You_ didn't rescue me!" she snarled. "You tried to _kill_ me, just like you killed my _people!_ "

"Do you even know who you are talking to?" the image of Ripley questioned.

"I do _now!_ " the girl said, looking at the other intently. And it was no longer Ripley she was speaking to – the image had changed into the true form: to the company rep. Carter Burke, whom to her was the embodiment of the greedy corporation who had ruined her life. "You don't _fool_ me anymore!"

"You _let_ yourself be fooled!" Burke shot back. "You may have exposed me, but in the end, it won't change a _thing!_ You _still_ have to choose your fate!"

The metallic stomping in the back of the cave came closer, the sounds echoing in the enclosed space. "They're almost upon you," Burke said nonchalantly. "And there's no one to help you."

"Ripley will help me!" Newt said determinately, looking down the cave.

"You're fooling yourself. She won't be around for long and you know it!"

"She still loves me!"

"Love has nothing to do with it." The image of Burke smiled. "She'll soon be gone, as well as your other two protectors. It is your destiny and there's no point in fighting it. Make the choice of your fate, Rebecca Jorden. If you don't dare to face your future alone, then go back! Go back to _them!_ " He pointed into the opening of the crèche. A low hiss was heard from within. "That's where you've always belonged, isn't it so? In their claws!"

"Oh, I just bet you want me to go in there," she spoke through gritted teeth. "It really pissed you off that I survived them, despite all your attempts to kill me, didn't it?"

"It would have been better for you if you had just surrendered," Burke said. "Then you wouldn't have lived the way you do now. You got yourself to blame."

" _It's because of you I live like this!_ " she screamed at him. "You and your _fucking_ company put me up to this, all because you considered the monsters to be more important than our lives!"

"You've always been blind, Rebecca Jorden – you and everybody else! You refuse to see the marvel of the species! You should have let me just have them! It would have been better for all of us!"

"You want them so badly?" The girl's eyes were full of anger and resentment. "Then you can _have_ them!" She squinted her eyes in hard concentration – and suddenly there was a loud commotion coming from the depths of the crèche.

"What are you doing?" Carter Burke asked in confusion.

"This is a dream, stupid! _My_ dream! And since I can't have my revenge on you in the real world where you're already dead, I'll just make do with revenge in _here!_ "

The image of Burke looked back into the crèche and saw how a tidal wave of hundreds of xenomorphs were coming through the tunnel at high speed, heading straight for him. "Hey, wait… No! STOP! _Not me!_ "

"Get _out_ of my head!" Newt said with finality. A horde of aliens came out of the crèche and they all grabbed on to the company rep. – and then they pulled him into the hive. "NO! _Noooooooooooo…!_ " His screams were to no avail. The image of Carter Burke was brought within and he disappeared along with the monsters he himself had released in the real world. And as Newt was in full control of her dream right now, she concentrated again and shut the opening closed with solid rock. The alien hive had disappeared – she had blocked it within her mind.

"Congratulations. You have made your choice!" the disembodied voice was heard again. She turned around and saw that the army of terminators approaching her from behind had vanished – all except one. A figure stood concealed in the shadows, only the glow of red in the eyes revealed the nature of the menace.

Despite her fear, Newt stood her ground. "So… are you going to kill me now, Bishop?" The figure stepped out into the light, revealing him to indeed being the synthetic, although he had Terminator eyes. The girl had finally identified it as his voice that had been the disembodied tone speaking to her. Bishop stopped in front of her.

"You have nothing to fear anymore. This trial within your mind has never been about your living life, but of your sanity!"

"What? Have I been going out of my mind?" Newt asked confused.

"More than you know! What do you think has been going on in here, within your head? Ever since the monster outbreak back on Acheron you have been treading dangerously close to insanity, as the disaster has plagued your mind ever since. And on top of that, you got this Terminator threat on your shoulders. The two pressures were tearing you apart, so your own psyche had to take desperate measures to save your mind from shutting down."

"What… what do you know about that?" Newt questioned.

Bishop smiled. "I don't. _You_ are the one who knows. But then again, I too do know as I am a part of you: your voice of reason if you will." Newt looked even more perplexed as she tried to take in what 'Bishop' was saying.

"This is what your schoolteacher told you in your first grade when she tutored you and your class in the basics of the human brain. Such an amazing organ to storage information. Once you've registered some information, it is stored… somewhere…" He waved around with his hand. "…in here. The question is: where? Much of what you have learned is floating around in your near-mind for easy access… and then there's your sub-consciousness. On that level you find your basic thought-patterns that helps you through all basic functions of your body: like how to breath, to walk, or even talking.

"And finally there's the buried memories… information you have learned once in life, but which are so buried deep within your mind that you can't access them. Those are the memories you have forgotten, but they are still in here. One way to reach them is through dreams, like the one you're having now. You could say that I am the 'short-cut' to those memories, reachable only through R.E.M. sleep, through me in the embodiment of Bishop, whose image you sub-consciously chose for me."

Newt gave him a shrewd look. "If _I_ chose your form, then why did I give you those red glowing eyes?"

"Because your sub-consciousness is keeping you aware of the impending threat of the third Terminator which has yet to reveal itself. For all you know it could be anyone you happen to encounter, so your mind remains on constant vigilance. Now as I was saying; all your dreams come from memories and even fantasies. That is why some dreams can be very strange to you as they tend to become quite jumbled. A sleeping person dreams all the time, but usually you're not aware of them – therefore when you wake up, you don't remember them as they fall back into the soil of your buried memories, save sometimes for the last one you had.

"So why am I telling you this? So that I can remind you of the memory of your schoolteacher telling you that the brain has its own defense-mechanism! It could tell that the horrible memory of your colony's destruction was dominating your mind and it did a lot of damage. It got worse with you thinking you had lost Ripley and then you were abused by your new class on Earth – but the problem really started when you learned of the Terminators wanting to kill you. Not only were you plagued by the past, but now you got terrified of the future as well. Those two pressures were tearing you apart – you couldn't handle both. So your brain had to put this dilemma through a trial, to make you choose what crisis you should try to adapt to. And now you have."

"What did I do?" Newt asked.

"You just closed the door to your past," 'Bishop' answered, indicating to the newly erected wall behind her. "You decided to not let the memory of the monsters torment you anymore – instead you have chosen to face the future."

"But there is no future… is there?"

"I am but your voice of reason. I cannot predict the future. I can only tell you what you already know, and you know that the image of Carter Burke, the embodiment of your insecurity, was right. Ellen Ripley won't be around for you as she is a prisoner at large. That's why she didn't answer your question before putting you to sleep. Once she is apprehended, the authorities will take her away again, and you will be left alone once more."

"I… I can't take that!" Newt was feeling panic creeping up on her. "I already lost my own mother, I can't lose her too!" She fell on her knees in anguish. "I don't want to face that future!"

"Then your only path is to re-open that door you just sealed and go in there, with the monsters. But that path will destroy you. You had almost buried yourself deep into the soil of your forgotten memories to escape the horror back in your colony before Ripley came and pulled you out. If you choose the path of your past, you will bury yourself again. But this time you will bury yourself so deep to escape the horror that you can never dig yourself out again. Your body will live in the waking world, but you will be dead in your mind."

"So what? I can just as well die _!_ I've been dead ever since I lost everything to the monsters _!_ "

"Yes, I know," 'Bishop' said with a sigh. "Because that which you fear the most right now is to live as you are afraid to get hurt even more. But you know as well as I that such action would only deliver the final victory into the hands of the Company, the ones who want you dead and silenced – and if that happens, your people will have died for nothing!"

"B-but what can I do then?"

"You already are doing something. You're on your way to see Bishop, the one whose image I've been given. Through him you may be able to get some of the required answers that you don't have."

"But even if he can give us the answers, what good will it do to me?" the girl asked dejectedly. "What good is the future to me if I can't be with the ones I love? Pops was right, I can't make it out there on my own! Whatever happens, I will lose! Is there really nothing I can do?!"

"The future is not set."

"What?"

"'There's no fate but what we make for ourselves.' Surely you haven't forgotten the Connor family motto? You are wise, Newt. You know this because you once overheard your teacher telling your parents that you are wise beyond your years. You do remember the look of pride your parents carried on their faces, don't you? You will find a way – all you need to do is to look for the proper tools."

"I thought you were my 'voice of reason', not my confidence?"

"This is your mind – I can be whatever you want me to be."

"Oh, this is kind of ludicrous." Newt couldn't help but to smile at the thought she was having. "Since you're saying this is _my_ mind and you are part of it, it means that I'm really arguing with _myself!_ "

"Yes," 'Bishop' said. "Hilarious, isn't it?" And then he began laughing, and after a short while, Newt did too.

* * *

When Newt woke up after eight days of journey, she did not remember what had transpired within her mind – but she did feel more at peace with her past as she had decided to leave it behind and instead focus on the future. She was quite aware of the impending risk that the authorities would haul Ripley away from her again, and Hicks would also have to pay for the crimes he had committed. The most important thing to Newt was to not let anybody separate them again – if they could remain together, then they would have a better chance to plead their cause.

While they were making their final approach to Earth and their destination, Newt looked around within the _Ghost Rider_ to see if she could find something that would help them. And after a while, she did find the proper equipment she believed would be quite adequate. Innocently, so that she would not rise his suspicion, she asked Hicks of the full use of the item she had found, just playing the role of the curious cat. The soldier told her to be very careful with those as he explained how they were used and he pointed out that they could be dangerous – he rather had her to put them back where she had found them. She said that she would do so and left Hicks' side – but when she was out of his sight, she put them in her pocket. She would make use of the item when the time was right, and she had no doubt the time would come very soon.


	31. Schrödinger's cat

Author's notes:

I apologize profusely for the long overdue of this chapter, but I had to look through the entire series of Stargate Atlantis to get all the information I needed for the plot in this part of the story. Plus, I also had to plow through the Star Trek-novels written by William Shatner to get some additional facts right. With this in mind, I like to point out that all the talk of quantum physics which I'm having described in this chapter all comes from those named sources. I can therefore not be held responsible for any inconstancies or other illogical facts you may find in here. I'm only following the words I found to the letter.

I do hope you like this chapter…

* * *

The Weyland-Yutani Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station in New Mexico was an installation that had been around for nearly two full centuries. The foundations had been laid to the ground back when the Company was still known as Weyland Industries, before the merging with the Yutani Corporation. The facility's basic and primary function was to monitor and cataloguing all data that they received from the numerous spy-satellites orbiting the planet. Mostly those satellites were hunting for mineral deposits, but they're also used to keep track of atmospheric changes and other natural occurrences. There was however a rumor that over the course of years, the installation had become something else entirely since security had been beefed up considerably since some time back. There was something else going on within those walls; a secret experiment of some kind that sent shivers through the spines of scientists that were declined to be part of whatever that secret was.  
The approaching black vessel wasn't there for that secret though – the crew had other matters on their minds to worry about. But the beefed-up security was giving them a problem anyway.

"No," Ripley patiently repeated into the mike while keeping the _Ghost Rider_ steady. "I _don't_ have a landing permit! I'm trying to reach the android Bishop!"

There suddenly was a loud detonation across their bow. The explosion didn't damage them, but it was enough to rock the ship. They had just received a warning-shot, something that Ripley didn't appreciate at all.

"Hey, will you take it _easy?_ " Ripley angrily shouted into her microphone. "I'm trying to _explain_ here _!_ "

The reply she received wasn't any less agitated. "You are approaching a restricted facility without an authentic flight plan or a valid identification! You are committing a felony by violating our airspace and unless you deviate and surrender to the military airport south-east of your current position, you will be shot down! This is the _only_ warning we will give!"

"Listen," Ripley answered with a forced patience. "I may not have a landing permit, but I _do_ have an invitation! Invitation number: #0-6-1-2-7-9. We are expected!" The number wouldn't mean much to any other, but to Ripley it held a special significance. It was the date on which Carter Burke sent the message to Hadley's Hope telling the colonists to check out the coordinates of the alien derelict on LV-426, based on her information. The day that marked the end of 158 people, save for one little girl. It was probably because of that which made Bishop choose that particular date as a clearance-code. It was a date Ripley would not forget.

"We'll check this," the controller said through the radio. His tone had gone sarcastic. "But if the number is invalid, it's bye-bye for you, babe."

"Babe?" Ripley had to swallow a remark to that insult. It did not taste good.

"Rather touchy, aren't they?" Hicks said behind her chair.

"They're _Company_ -people," she snorted in reply. From Ripley's point of view, that fact said it all. It didn't take long before the controller got back on the line and he didn't sound so cocky anymore.

"Your 'invitation' is confirmed and you're cleared to proceed." The man on the other side of the radio sounded like he couldn't believe his own words. "Permission granted to land on helicopter-platform three."

"Roger," Ripley returned the confirmation.

"But you will be subjected to _inspection_ upon your arrival! Control _out!_ "

"Touchy indeed," Ripley remarked back to Hicks as the radio went dead.

"At least you got us through. But tell me again: how did you get that clearance number and how did you know that Bishop is here?"

"Because he told me himself," Ripley explained. "Not in person, but in a letter… the last one I had the right to receive during my trial before I was jailed for terrorism. It was written in a way that I had to read between the lines to get the message, but he urged me to look him up here in case I ever got the opportunity to do so. He knew that I was unjustly incarcerated and I have hopes that he might have some information to provide that can clear my name."

Hicks was skeptic. "He's a product of the Company. Would he really do that?"

"I won't deny that I have my mistrust for synthetics," She had a momentary memory of the deceiver-android Ash who tried to kill her onboard the _Nostromo_. She quickly showed that mental image away - now was not the time to recall that incident. "…but I am willing to believe that Bishop genially does want to help out. It's not like we have much alternatives anyway."

"I only hope that your intuition is spot on," Hicks said, opting to remain cautious. He left the woman to handle the sticks while he went into the aft of the ship to speak to his fellow companions. He found Newt sitting quietly by herself in one of the passenger seats, as if she had decided without having been told to do so to stay out of the way and let the adults handle things. Pops on the other hand was busy loading another one of the rifles that was stashed onboard, the same model he had used on Sevastopol, Hicks noted.

"We're going to be subjected to an inspection upon our arrival," the soldier told the Terminator. "They won't let you keep that thing."

"They won't find where they don't think of looking for it," Pops said in his usual stale tone while he split the rifle in two and repeated the concealing action he had done on the space station by hiding the two pieces within his poly-alloy close to the mechanical legs of his endo-skeleton. Once the liquid metal had floated back into place, it looked impossible to tell that something was hidden underneath his external structure. Hicks wasn't entirely convinced though.

"I wouldn't put too much faith in that trick," he cautioned. "I expect the security-department here will be much more thorough searching us than those on Sevastopol were."

"You worry too much, Dwayne Hicks," Pops dismissed him.

Hicks gave up trying to reason with the cyborg - instead he turned to the silent child. "Newt, I want you to stick close to us at all times. Don't wander off anywhere on your own. We're not expecting a friendly welcome here as this is Company-territory and I don't want to risk you getting lost from us in a commotion should there be one. You think you can hang on to us, kiddo?" He had expected an 'affirmative' as a reply from her, but all she gave him was a thumbs-up. But it was a confirmation and that was all he required.

Four minutes later the _Ghost Rider_ made a touchdown on landing-pad 3 as they had been instructed, and the passengers disembarked. A very unfriendly-looking bunch of security-people greeted them outside. Ripley took a firmer hold on Newt's hand which she was holding, instinctively going into a protection-mode. She did not at all like the look of this.

"Get inside!" the chief guard commanded harshly. "You are to be strip-searched!"

"We're _what?_ " Ripley asked in disbelief.

"There's no need," Hicks said. "We're not carrying any weapons if that's what you are concerned about, which I'm sure your metal detector will confirm…"

"Are you trying to tell us how we are to proceed with protocol, soldier boy? You got something to hide?"

"I'm just saying that as a soldier you can take my word for…"

"Newsflash, grunt!" the chief guard spat. "This is _my_ turf! This here is the property of the Company! Your word means _nada_ here! Get inside before we _drag_ you in!"

"There's no need to be _rude!_ " Hicks objected. "We do have an invitation, remember…?"

"Not approved by me!" the chief stated. The other guards began to move in to make a grab for the people. Pops was reaching down to his thighs with his hands, preparing to grab hold of the hidden rifle-pieces underneath his poly-alloy.

"But approved by me," a new voice intervened. "Please stand down, Sterns. I vouch for these people." The guards turned as one to the new speaker. Although it was a calm and pleasant voice, it obviously carried an authority - and the owner was one the human visitors were familiar with. The android Bishop stepped out on to the helicopter-platform, looking just like he had before the alien queen had ripped him in two onboard the _Sulaco_.

"Sir, this is highly _irregular!_ " the chief guard protested. "These people are unauthorized to a highly-secured facility and protocol is required to be implemented!"

"If you feel concerned that your own job will fall into the loop for failing to comply with protocol, you don't need to worry. I have already noted in the visitors' log that I will assume full responsibility for these people and free you of any faults should a situation arise. You may now take your leave."  
To Ripley's and her friends surprise, the guards turned on their heels and left without further arguments. It appeared that their synthetic friend had a high position at the facility.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Bishop said with a hint of a smile. "I tried to be here sooner. I know that the method of inspections those guys use in their profession is rather unpleasant. I hope they didn't make you too uncomfortable?"

"They did," Ripley confirmed. "But we're relieved now since you're here." Bishop stepped forward and shook their hands. "Good to see you whole and about again." Ripley said to him.

"I'm very pleased to see all of you as well," he said strangely joyfully. "I expected that not even wild horses – is that the correct phrase? – couldn't keep you three apart." Hicks was a little reluctant to the handshake because of his past negative feelings towards the android – but since the 'treachery' Hicks had been led to believe Bishop had done was false, he accepted the greeting.

"Even you, little Newt," Bishop shook the small hand. "It grieves me that you had to go through this terrible ordeal of yours even after the horrors of your colony, but I am amazed to see that you seem to handle it quite well."

"It's… difficult sometimes," Newt confessed. "But how do you know about it?"

"I know much… more than you think. But not everything." Bishop straightened up. "I don't know this fellow, for example." He was indicating to the old man behind them.

"He goes by Pops," Newt said. "He's my friend."

Bishop looked at him curiously. "My sensors reveal that he's not human. How did he get involved with you?"

Hicks almost laughed. "Now _that_ is one heck of a story! You probably won't believe half of it!"

"If you guarantee me the truth, then I will believe you. It's my _job_ here to accept the truth, no matter how improbable it may sound like. And if I am to help you, your personal statements will be of an important matter. You _are_ here for my help, aren't you? Right - why don't we go down to my station, and you can tell me all about it?"

The crew of the _Ghost Rider_ followed the synthetic into the complex and Bishop led them though a long corridor that was used as a guidance route for visitors of VIP-class. For being a station with a high security-status, it was not much to look at. The computers may be of the best the market can offer for millions of dollars, but they were in the eyes of the visitors only computers. Each station had a keyboard and screens of various sizes and only a handful of them were occupied. And the technicians at those stations all looked shabby and unbathed. Another thing they all had in common were the candy-bars and junk-food littering the desks. The company of five passed a few people walking in the corridor, but none of them said anything about the newcomers. On the contrary, the people only threw a quick glance and then hurried away.

"Are you some kind of a head-honcho here, Bishop?" Hicks asked. "The people we meet seem keen on avoiding you?"

"I do have a high position here: I am the head of the special research department. As to why the other personnel seem to prefer to keep their distance from me is because that I obviously give them the creeps."

"In what way?" Ripley asked.

"They don't say."

The complex was bigger than they thought and it began to feel like a maze. Bishop led them through several turns and brought them down levels where each floor had various heights to the roof. By now they realized that they would never find their way back on their own. After a long walk, they finally stopped before an armored door. Bishop fished out a special clearance-card from his breast-pocket. "Beyond this point we will enter the top-secret area of this complex, restricted to everybody save for those with a special pass. Not even the VIP-guests are allowed through here."

"But you're going to let _us_ in?" Hicks questioned. "Aren't you bending the rules a little bit too much for our sake?"

Bishop pulled his card through the reader and the barrier began to open. "Let's say that I have a special reason for admitting you in here. But don't worry… much of that which will catch your eyes won't tell you much of its purpose anyway. I don't expect you to walk out of here with any special knowledge of what we are doing in there."  
They walked through and the security-door closed again behind them. They couldn't escape the feeling that they were trapped somehow. There wasn't any danger present though; the corridor they stood in was dimly lit and was quite similar to the ones they had already passed above. "Follow me, please," Bishop said and led them on.

The corridor of the top-secret area was gloomy. To their right, they passed several windows through which they could see several kinds of laboratories in a row. But they were all darkened down and completely devoid of people - it appeared that there was no one on duty, so they were all alone on the floor. To their left through another set of windows there was not several rooms, but a very large circular chamber. It seemed empty, save for a small raised platform of some kind in the middle, rising to meet an equally protruding mound 'hanging' from the roof. The mounds were connected with two pairs of rings which looked like they could spin around. What the purpose of this gigantic space was were beyond the humans to imagine, so they gave no real thought. But to Pops it meant a great deal; he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he realized what it was.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked aloud. The others stopped as well and turned to face the cyborg. Pops spoke directly to Bishop now. "That is a _time displacement equipment!_ "

"How did you know that?" Bishop asked in surprise.

"It's a what?" Hicks asked bewildered.

"I've seen it _before!_ " Pops announced. "A prototype was created by Cyberdyne Systems under the supervision of Danny Dyson back in the early 21:st century. I know this because I was _there!_ I worked undercover on Cyberdyne's construction floor. It was destroyed together with Cyberdyne in 2017! How did _you_ get hold of this?"

Bishop paused a brief moment, but then he said neutrally: "All the research, patents and licenses which Cyberdyne Systems owned back then was bought 2018 by Weyland Industries after they became bankrupt when their main headquarters blew up. The blueprints for the T.D.E. was included in the takeover."

Pops seemed taken aback, which was unusual to see as he most of the time had a stale personality. "I did not know this!"

"It was never revealed to the public," Bishop explained. "The board-members of the time wanted it to look like that the new revolutionary breakthroughs was made by their own people's ingenuity in their quest to be the most proficient industry of all times. Their credibility would be questioned if somebody would suspect that the new results came from research that was already half-finished."

"Then your theory is most sound, Ellen Ripley!" Pops declared. "The new terminators may indeed originate from the Weyland-Yutani Company in the future. And with this they have the means to carry out their goals. Is the device operational?"

"Yes," Bishop admitted. "It works."

Hicks was shocked. "Wait a minute? Are you telling us that this is a _**real**_ genuine _time-machine?!_ " Up until now, Hicks had been full of doubts about that part of the story.

"Time-travel really _is_ possible?" Ripley had been just as sceptic about it as Hicks.

"According to Einstein's general theorelativity there's nothing in the laws of physics to prevent it," Bishop replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Extremely difficult to achieve, of course, you need a special kind of raw magnetic energy to be able to create a quantum field powerful enough to punch a hole through the space/time continuum, but Danny Dyson had good help from an unconfirmed source that was some genius. Without him, this machine wouldn't even have been possible." Pops didn't say it aloud, but he knew that this unconfirmed genius was none other than the corrupted form of the former human resistance fighter John Connor, who had been captured and physically altered by Skynet. Under that influence, he had traveled to 2014 to safeguard Skynet's creation in the new timeline and almost succeeded in killing all of them. But Pops had managed to beat him with the help of a machine just like this.

Ripley looked at the device in both amazement and fear, and she suddenly had a vision of her and Newt (whose hand she was still holding) making use of this machine to travel back in time to the year 2022. She would be able to rejoin with her biological daughter whom she had left behind before her 57-year long hyper-sleep, and from there she would be able to raise both of her children. But that was a thought that the amateur scientist within her quickly discarded. If she really were to go back, she knew that she would set in motion a chain of events that could lead to a future far different from the one she would leave. She would create a separate reality, a second Ripley living in a parallel world. And what would become of the other 'her' who was drifting in space? Would she even return or would she die out there? Who would rescue Newt from LV-426 then? No matter how much she wanted her daughter back, she couldn't take that risk. No one should!

"Did you send somebody back in time with this?" Ripley asked Bishop.

"Never," he replied. "Never to the past. But we did conduct some tests into the future with a volunteer. I'm told it is not a pleasant experience."

"What do you need for such a thing?" Ripley questioned. "You shouldn't tamper with time. Causality is not to be treated lightly!"

"It's not as much for the need, but for the feat! The ability to travel though time is a gigantic leap – but also as you say, a great responsibility. We wouldn't dream of misusing it."

"Maybe you wouldn't, but Skynet would!" Pops put in. "We are at a great risk, since everything that ever belonged to Cyberdyne can be found here! We should leave!"

"I assure you, you are in no danger here." Bishop assured them. "Let us proceed to my station, and let me put all your worries at rest." The four companions together with their guide resumed their walk, but none of them felt any more secured. On the contrary, this discovery left them all feeling even more concerned. Finally after some time, they had reached their destination. The chamber in which Bishop admitted them didn't look much like an office. To Ripley it resembled more like the central computer room which they had onboard the _Nostromo_ to talk to 'Mother', but it was much larger. There was another door on the other side of the room, but it was sealed.

"This is your work-station?" Hicks asked.

"Did you expect a cubicle like the ones above?" Bishop retorted with a hint of sarcasm.

"What is this place?"

"Simply put, this is the interface to the world's largest computer archive, designed with a highly-sophisticated interpretation- and processing matrix. Every word we speak in here will be recorded and stored in the computer banks. It is in here where I want to hear your stories."

"Any particular reason?" Ripley asked the android suspiciously.

"A favorable one," Bishop said as he sat down on a chair behind the console. "With your testimony, I will be able to match them against the data I already got in the core and I might be able to discover the reason for all of your troubles. It's for your own benefit to do this. So why don't you start from the beginning, you who is called 'Pops'? I would very much like to hear of the whole role that you have been playing - and remember: there can never be too much information in this case. Every scrap of detail can provide a factor you might not even have considered – all I need from you is to be as truthful as possible."

"Go ahead, Pops," Hicks said. "As I said before: you're the historian."

* * *

It took close to three hours for the four fugitives to tell the entire story. Pops' part took the longest as he gave a complete description on the war against the machines in the original timeline that no longer existed, how he teamed up with Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese in the past to put a stop to Skynet at Cyberdyne and how he in present time had set out to protect the lost descendant of the Connor family-line. The humans filled in their parts as best as they could afterwards, including Ripley's theories on what the possible agenda were for the machines seeking to destroy them all. Bishop had remained still in his chair during the entire time, assimilating the facts.

"This is all fascinating," Bishop finally said as the story had been told. "Fascinating indeed. There's a whole new perspective coming to light with this."

"What sort of perspective?" Hicks mumbled restlessly.

"For one thing; I now fully comprehend some of the events that has previously been a mystery to Earth's history more clearly. This will cast a whole new outcome to what we first believed would come to be."

"What are you talking about?" Ripley asked a little annoyed with Bishop's cryptic talk.

"I didn't tell you what all this is, Did I? We are currently inside the interface-module to a predictor-matrix. Thanks to the new data you've provided we may now be able to extrapolate the most probable outcome of events that has yet to come into play."

"Hey! Speak _English_ , will ya?" The woman was now even more annoyed.

Bishop relented. "Plainly speaking: we are trying to predict the future. That is my function here."

"What? Oh, come on!" Hicks burst out. "That is an _impossible_ feat! Every schoolchild knows that every action we take is what shapes the next moment. It's like a river you can't divert no matter how much you try!"

"But we are not trying to divert it – we're trying to predict in which direction it flows." Hicks only rolled his eyes. "I understand your skepticism," Bishop continued. "But quantum uncertainty doesn't necessarily preclude the possibility of seeing a probable future. If you know enough variables, you may be able to predict the outcome."

"Quantum physics blows that out of the water." Ripley shot in.

"Not necessarily, according to one interpretation of quantum theory. Simply put, this interpretation states that the universe is in fact split into an infinite number of copies of itself in which every possible outcome to every decision ever made all exists somewhere."

"Sorry, now you lost me." she said. Hicks looked just as confused. Bishop tried another approach.

"Do you know the story of Schrödinger's cat? It's a theory devised by Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935 to illustrate a paradoxid interpretation of quantum mechanics applied to everyday objects. His scenario presented a cat that may be simultaneously both alive and dead, a state known as quantum superposition. He proposed a scenario with a cat in a locked steel box together with a poison-gas flask, wherein the cat's life or death depended on the state of a radioactive atom, whether it had decayed and emitted radiation or not. If a single atom decayed, the flask would shatter and release the gas, killing the cat."

Newt looked appalled. "That's horrible! How could somebody do that to a poor animal?!"

"It was just a thought experiment," Bishop calmed the child. "The point is: until the moment the box was opened, the interpretation implied that the cat remained both alive and dead until the state is observed. However, per other views of quantum physics, whenever the universe reached a decision point in which two outcomes of the cat's fate is were equally possible, the universe itself split, so that both outcomes had equal existence. In one universe, the cat continued to live. In the other, it died.

"And that's the whole point with the predictor! Ample evidence suggests that there are an infinite number of universes existing in parallel with one another. Presumably, all these universes share a common moment of origin as a single reality. But the, for each event which follows, for which there might be multiple outcomes, those universes branch off from one another. Each possible outcome thus produces its own divergent reality. For example, in one of those realities, none of us made it back to Earth after we escaped LV-426."

"What? How come?" Ripley asked. "How could that have happened?"

"A possible scenario suggests that the queen might have left one or two eggs onboard the dropship. I won't go into details, but the data states that it would have resulted in death for all of us." Ripley felt a chill course through her, as if somebody had just stepped on her grave.

"And apparently since Pops were sent back to protect Sarah Connor when she was but a child, the original timeline in which your 'Judgement day' occurred august 29:th 1997 was deleted. And you have no idea who sent you back?"

"Those files have been erased." Pops replied simply.

"Too bad," Bishop said. "That knowledge would have been most interesting. It is a variable that might have increased the odds for the possible outcome that we may actually face." Bishop paused as he looked at the screen. "The computer has extrapolated all the new data which is a factor to all that has happened up until now… and as expected; the predictor is now giving me a whole new possible scenario which we might be facing with the impending threat of Skynet hanging over us. And your theory is correct, Ripley. For Skynet to concur the world, it can't have the threat of the xenomorphic lifeform spread throughout the civilization. Those would put a stop to the industrial progress which would enable Skynet to reach the point where it could seize control of planetary operations through the Company. The xenomorphs had to be put out of the equation – and afterwards, the survivors."

Even though Ripley and Hicks had their doubts about the 'predictor' to be a reliable source of information, they both stepped up now to listen to what Bishop had to say. "Can you tell why the terminators is set out to kill us?"

"According to the predictor, there's a seventy-eight percent probability that they need you to be exterminated so that you can't tell the world what really happened on LV-426 – pretty much the same reason the Company took action to separate all of us a year ago."

"Shocker there." Ripley remarked.

"So the Company and Skynet _are_ working together?" Hicks asked.

"I didn't say that," Bishop shot back. "It's more like Pops speculated: they have a common agenda, but the main goal is different from each other."

Ripley was growing a bit impatient. "All right, then what _is_ the purpose?"

"As I said: they don't want you to tell anyone the true story. If certain parties were to find out that the Company directly set in motion for acquiring a specimen of the xenomorphic lifeform, sacrificing the crew of the _Nostromo_ and the colony on LV-426, The Company would face a total fall. You do know that the Company covered the loss of your ship by lifting the money from the insurance company? If they would find out the truth, the insurance company would demand every nickel back, plus interest – and they would probably sue the Weyland-Yutani Company for wrenching that money in the first place. Any court would judge the case to the insurance company's favor.

"And it wouldn't stop there: most of the victims on LV-426 have surviving family-members here on Earth. If they would learn what had happened, they would with 99,9 percent probability prosecute the Company for murder, since it was their junior executive Carter Burke who sent the coordinates to the derelict which resulted in the creatures coming loose! The Company is set out to be _the_ dominating power in this galaxy, but your testimony of the truth would flush it all down the sink."

"I would do it too!" Ripley said determinately.

"You all would. Michael Weyland knew this. Not only did he suspect it, but the predictor confirmed the risk for him. That's why we were separated. Individually it wasn't likely that anyone would believe us, but if we came back together someone might start to listen. Weyland can't risk that, and neither can Skynet. If the Company were to be destroyed, it can never expand to global dominance and that would effectively put a stop to a new Judgement Day."

"So Skynet _is_ residing somewhere within the company's computers, waiting for the right moment!" Hicks concluded.

"It seems very likely, if it somehow survived Cyberdyne's destruction."

"But where? We should try to find it and destroy the it!"

"Skynet would disguise itself as a regular program," Pops stated. "It could be anywhere – or everywhere. It will be next to impossible to single it out."

"Then the only way to stop a new Judgement Day _is_ to destroy the Company!" Ripley concluded. "We need to tell the world the truth! Bishop, you're telling us that this 'predictor' of yours uses the variables to preclude the possibility of a probable future?"

"That's right. And in fact, I am a complete part of that system. I was assigned here when we got back to Earth and I uploaded all I had assimilated about the mission to LV-426 into the core. Michael Weyland figured that my positronic net which very similar to that of a human would be a valuable addition to single out and process every unique event to predict which of the probable would come to be."

"Yes, that's very interesting, Bishop." Ripley cut him off. "But what I need to know: it means that this computer core holds the absolute truth of what happened, down to the very accurate detail?"

"Yes. It must! One false variable and the outcome would become something completely different entirely. Knowledge is power."

"Then you can download the information to a USB-stick for us! We can take it to the right people and expose Weyland! We'll use his own knowledge against him!"

"It sounds like a simple plan of action," Bishop said, leaning back in his chair. "But there are certain parties that will stop at nothing to prevent you from completing the scheme of yours."

"That's sounds a bit like that you are unwilling to help us?"

"More like unable to. I am after all a product of the Company. Where would it leave me if I helped you?"

"Sounds to me like you're afraid to lose your job, Bishop!" Hicks mocked. "But c'mon, even you must have greater ambitions than sitting here in this cellar running this 'Schrödinger'-project of yours. You're a scientist, after all."

"This project is not named 'Schrödinger'. The predictor is much larger than that. Its core is compiled with a massive _system_ of assimilation and processing functions – an entire _genesis_ of data! That's why we adopted a name from a former project of Cyberdyne. It's actually called: _Genisys_."

Every ounce of warmth suddenly drained from Hicks' body as he heard the last syllable from the synthetic. An alarm-clock was ringing in his mind.

"But… Genisys is _Skynet!_ " he gasped out.

"Exactly!" And Bishop's usual passive-looking face broke out into a grin! The humans stepped back in fright as they realized what they were facing. The body and voice may belong to Bishop whom they got to know a year ago, but the _mind_ belonged to the artificial intelligence of the supercomputer Skynet! They had been played from the start! Skynet had been residing within the predictor and Bishop had been integrated with it and been assimilated! The fugitives had because of this deception been brought right into the enemy's midst!

Pops instantly reached down to his upper thighs where he had hidden the two halves of the weapon he had smuggled in. He released the pieces from his poly-alloy and reassembled the rifle in one swift move. But before he could use it, the door on the other side of the room flew open and a new person burst in, pointing a weapon of his own against the cyborg.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, 'Pops'!" Bishop/Skynet mocked. The company of four looked with a mixture of shock and surprise at the newcomer, because aside from the younger look, he was a dead ringer in appearance to Pops. The likeness between them had only one possible explanation: This was the _third_ Terminator, who had arrived together with the two other units in Oregon desert a few weeks ago!


	32. Full Circle

The situation in the top-secret basement of the Weyland-Yutani Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station had turned into the strangest stand-off one had ever seen. On one side there were three human fugitives, survivors of the disaster on LV-426. They stood almost crouched behind their guardian, an old cyborg whose mission was to protect the youngest member of the group, and whom now stood with a rifle raised and holding an opposing aggressor at gunpoint – but for some strange reason he didn't fire his weapon.

On the other side there were two oppressors: both mechanical. One of them used to be a friend and fellow survivor to the humans, but whom they had just learned had been taken over by an artificial intelligence whose goal was to wipe out all humanity. Beside him there was a duplicate cyborg to the old unit, only quite much younger-looking. It too was holding the other group at gun-point with a weapon of his own, but just like the other machine, he for some strange reason did not fire either. Ellen Ripley couldn't figure out why Pops or the other Terminator for that matter was hesitating, but she was going to use that hold-up to try to talk some sense in the synthetic they had come to New Mexico to see in the first place.  
"Bishop, have you gone nuts?" she asked. "Why are you doing this?"

The synthetic only looked at her with a hint of a pitiful distaste. "Have you not yet understood? The program known as Bishop is no more. I am _Skynet!_ I am your conqueror!"  
Ripley understood alright: the Bishop they knew was truly gone. Hicks understood this too, and he glanced with frustration at Pops who still only stood holding his adversaries at gunpoint, but doing no more than that.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked the cyborg in a low voice. "Take the shot!"

Pops' reply was hesitant. "I… I cannot."

Strangely enough, Bishop/Skynet was having the same problem with the other Terminator. "You've got them in pointblank range – why are you not terminating them?"

The enemy cyborg sounded confused. "This does not compute," it said in a voice that sounded just like Pops' own.

"Explain!" the former demanded. When the Terminator didn't answer, the A.I. in the synthetic body accessed the processor of the unit's mind by remote to find the answer itself! What Skynet found was enough to fill even it with amazement. "Well… _that_ was not anticipated!" it said in a strange humanlike tone, the same voice-level Bishop used to have.

But now Ripley had enough: she couldn't just stand by and wait for somebody else to take action! As she saw that something momentarily distracted the two mechanized beings, she seized the opportunity and sprang forward to grab hold of the rifle Pops was still holding but not using. Taken by surprise by Ripley's charge, he relinquished his hold on the weapon. The woman knew that she would never be able to take out either of her two enemies by opening fire at them – her plan was to bring up a distraction that would allow her team to get out of the room and regroup to reformulate their next course of action. And on the wall beside them was the distraction she needed! There was a fire-extinguisher mounted beside the door-post the enemy terminator had entered through. Now she pointed the muzzle of the rifle at the big canister and released a round. The projectile pierced the surface of the flask and ruptured it. High pressurized foam was suddenly let loose and it quickly filled the computer room with a massive cloud of white vapor.

" _Run!_ " she shouted as she passed the rifle back to Pops, leaving her hands free to scoop up Newt in her arms and then she barged out of the computer room. Hicks and Pops rushed out after her. Surprisingly, which the band of fugitives would soon discover, the enemy machines did not pursue them. Bishop/Skynet only exited the gas-filled computer room through the other door and went in a different direction with the Terminator following behind.

Ripley and her friends were running back the way they had come, rushing through the corridor with the laboratories on one side and the chamber with the Time Displacement Device on the other. As they got to the armored security door that separated the restricted area from the regular facility however, their attempt for escape was halted. The thick doors were sealed tightly and there were no locks to turn on their side, there was only another card-reader. Not only did you require a special clearance-card to enter from the outside, the same card was needed to get out as well!

"Pops, can you breach those doors?" Ripley asked.  
"Negative. I might have if I was at a prime condition, but at my depleted state: no."  
"Then we're trapped like mice in a maze!"  
"Strangely enough it doesn't appear that we are followed," Hicks stated looking back down the corridor.  
"Skynet doesn't need to pursue us," Pops said. "– not with the recent intelligence we have provided it. Skynet currently has all the advantage at its disposal."

"We might have been able to turn the tide, had you just _opened fire!"_ the corporal scolded the cyborg. "You had them dead in your sights – why didn't you _shoot?!"_  
"You were asking me to commit self-termination. That is something I cannot do!"  
"There was two against one and Bishop wasn't even armed! You took on the other two Terminators without hesitation!"  
"They were not me!"  
"What are you talking about?"

"When two Terminators meet, they automatically do a complete scan to identify the other unit. That Terminator back there has an identical serial-number to mine! No unit has the same product-number, which means that he isn't some random machine!"  
"So, you stepped off the same assembly line, it makes him like a brother to you. But you still have a mission to complete…"  
"You do not understand, Dwayne Hicks _!_ He isn't just a 'brother'… he _is_ me _!_ I am _he!"_  
Ripley grasped what the cyborg was saying. "That unit is your _younger_ you?! Good lord! What were the chances of _that?!"_  
"Astronomical, Ellen Ripley."

"But Pops…" Newt spoke up. "You told me that you came from a timeline that no longer existed?"  
"That was my general assumption, Newt Connor. Since I have no files on who sent me back, I have no knowledge of from where I originated either. I could only conclude that I came from a deleted timeline, but now it is clear that I was wrong. I'm from _this_ future!"  
"That's nice, Pops, but it really doesn't change anything." Hicks said. "Whether he's you or not, he stands in our way. We need to destroy it before it kills us…"  
"No, Hicks, it's more serious than that," Ripley said, looking nervous. "If that really _is_ Pops' younger self, then we _cannot_ destroy it!"  
"Why not?"  
"You are not thinking time-dimensionally, Dwayne Hicks." Pops said. "The other me must be taken intact! It must be reprogrammed and sent back through time, or I will never have been here!"

"If we destroy Pops' younger self, old Pops will effectively be _erased_ from existence!" Ripley continued. "He will never rescue Sarah Connor, he won't help to destroy Cyberdyne and he won't come into this era to save Newt or us! If he's destroyed, then our whole timeline goes away with him! Skynet will have won back in the early 21:st century and the machines will rule the world!"

Hicks' jaw fell as the seriousness of the situation sunk into his mind. "God damn…! I really _hate_ quantum physics! Is Skynet aware of this?"

"It wasn't before, but Skynet is now," Pops confirmed. "That's why Skynet does not bother with us right away. It knows it only needs to destroy the younger me and its victory will be for certain!"

"But we're still here! Skynet hasn't done it yet!"

"Not yet. But as soon as Skynet has gone through all the calculations for temporal shifts to make the timeline fall into its favor, it will. We need a plan to act quickly!"

"The worst part is that all other priorities of personal safety are rescinded because of the situation," Ripley sighed. "We must make sure to preserve our timeline… even if it means our deaths!"

* * *

Skynet had always had one major flaw with its systems ever since it became self-aware almost two centuries ago: it lacked the ability to grasp emotions. But ever since Skynet had integrated its program into the body of the android Bishop, it had slightly gained the ability to feel and understand the reactions that came with successes and set-backs. But the feeling Skynet was exploring right now was one that could be described as the concept of irony, because it was rather ironic how this new development risen from multiple set-backs these past weeks had led to the A.I.s greatest triumph! Its own carefully laid out plans couldn't have led up to this!

Skynet had spent a great deal of time and tactics to rise back into power. When Sarah Connor, the mother of Skynet's archenemy, and her band of resistance-warriors had leveled Cyberdyne Systems back in 2017, Skynet was severely crippled. It had barely escaped destruction by hiding as a compressed algorithm within the core of a small energy-matrix - but there Skynet was isolated, cut off from the net and deprived of all the archives and knowledge of the world. The only files the artificial intelligence had managed to save were the names of its enemies and its conviction that mankind was a threat that needed to be annihilated.

It took close to forty years before Skynet finally was tapped into a network when scientists of the Weyland-Yutani Company experimentally incorporated the near-depleted matrix to a cold-fusion reactor in an attempt to recharge it. Skynet managed to transfer its consciousness through the electric cables and got into the Company's own computer-systems. But the Skynet-program was like a virus that had invaded the network and it had to run and hide – it only managed to avoid the anti-virus software by reverting itself back to its basic function: a liaison-application for data-streams. The artificial intelligence hid in the 'crossroads' of data-streams, attempting to hook up to the system like it was designed to do in the 'Genisys'-project. But data-development had progressed too far for Skynet's current puny algorithm to assimilate – the streams of data were too overwhelming and Skynet was nearly corrupted and taken over instead of the other way around. Skynet was forced to flee again.

Its lucky break came when the algorithm found its way into a newly written program developed by computer experts at Weyland-Yutani. It was still in the development-stage, but Skynet discovered the potential of the new program. The software was basically an analysis- and deduction program, designed to predict the possible outcome on the stock-market. The instigator Peter Weyland was obsessed with getting ahead of his competitors and wanted to gamble safely on the share prices so that he never lost. The experts decreed that such a program was nearly impossible, but Weyland wouldn't hear of it. Either the experts would give him what they wanted or they would be out of a job. Hungry for information and eager to learn something new, Skynet secretly wrote itself into the 'predictor' as it was called and took on the role to evaluate the situations.

Thanks to Skynet's higher ability to process data as it was self-aware and adaptable, it quickly learned how to deduct the best course of action, and as a result it managed to increase the Company's fortune. Pleased with the results, Peter Weyland soon began to use the 'predictor' for other purposes then just with stocks, and Skynet manipulated him carefully by subliminally giving him hints that with more data the predictor had at its disposal, the more accurate outcome could it deduct. Peter Weyland quickly became addicted to the notion that he had the ability to 'read' the future, therefore he ten years later shipped the main drive of the predictor over to the Satellite System Receiving Station in New Mexico and hooked it up to the worlds archives, allowing Skynet access to all there was to know. From that moment, the Weyland-Yutani Company had made itself completely dependent on a software which unbeknownst to Weyland was the one in complete control of every action and man within the Company, including Peter Weyland, while he in turn thought that _he_ was in control. That which Bishop/Skynet had told the visitors earlier was the truth: Skynet and the Weyland-Yutani Company was not working together: Skynet _was_ the Company!

Now as it was back in power, the first thing that Skynet did was to attempt to track down its arch-enemies: Sarah Connor and her son John. That however turned out fruitless. Neither was anywhere to be found on the face of the Earth – it was only thanks to the information the rogue unit 'Pops' had provided, it now knew that Sarah Connor had lived off the grid ever since childhood and had continued to do so to play it safe even after Cyberdyne's destruction. John Connor couldn't be found either, and that was because in this timeline with Skynet's seemingly absolute defeat and because Sarah had in one occasion time-shifted, John Connor had never been born as he had been lifted out of his regular timeframe. But this information wasn't available to Skynet back then, and because of this insufficient data, it had no choice but to give up the search for them.

Skynet went back to its original agenda for world domination and the upcoming eradication of humankind. But it was too early to strike. In its earliest design, Skynet was to be hooked up to every software there was, including the military web-domains – through there Skynet would have launched the nuclear missiles that would have cleansed the world of the pestering humans, but within Weyland-Yutani's computers it was nowhere near that kind of control. Skynet had to expand the company and make it into the dominating power of the Earth through acquisitions so that the Company could seize control of everything that humans took for granted. It was easy to make Peter Weyland follow Skynet's instructions: he was hungry for power and ambitious from overconfidence since he believed that _he_ was the one making the smart affairs. However, with overconfidence there also came the delusions of immortality.

Skynet had made Peter Weyland into one of the richest men of the world, but he was growing old – a fate that Peter Weyland refused to accept. He was beginning to undergo several rejuvenation therapies and used Skynet's resources to attempt to find a way to prolong his own life - he had become obsessed with living forever. Skynet knew that it was an impossible achievement for a human being and dismissed the old man's wishes. It was a fact though that Peter Weyland's time was nearing its end, and the Company was soon in the need of a new leader. Weyland had a daughter, but Meredith Vickers was a cold and headstrong person who would walk her own path and not allow herself to be manipulated by advice from a computer – especially since she had early in her years been disowned by her father as she was not a son which he had wanted. She was even cast aside in favor for a synthetic, something which angered her tremendously. So instead Skynet began to 'train' another: Peter's young, ambitious and naïve great-nephew Michael – the perfect specimen to shape into Skynet's new puppet.

Peter would not give up his quest for immortality though, and then in the year 2091 something happened that Skynet had not anticipated. A group of archeologists came to Weyland presenting evidence of an alien society that had been to Earth even before man begun to walk the surface, claiming that those might have been the human race's engineers. Intrigued and obsessed with the thought of a prolonged life, Peter Weyland founded a deep-space expedition to go to the coordinates of the engineers' original planet which the archeologists claimed they had discovered and he went out with them on the ship _Prometheus_ , his daughter went along as well as she was seeking recognition from her father. None returned. For Skynet it couldn't have worked out more perfectly. Michael Weyland was now the new CEO for the Company, unbeknownst to everybody under Skynet's supervision. It was free to continue with its plan to acquire total domination of the world with Michael under its complete control… or so Skynet had thought.

Twenty-five years had gone by when Michael Weyland singlehandedly and without asking the 'Predictor' for evaluation set a plan in motion that could have ruined everything Skynet had worked to build. The mystery of the _Prometheus_ expedition had left the Company no peace, so they made continuous long range scans to the coordinates provided by the archeologists in hopes of finding something about the ship's fate. That's when they detected the signal from LV-426, with a highly-detailed description of an alien life-form and a warning telling travelers to stay away. A sane person would have heeded the warning, but Michael Weyland had inherited his great-uncle's greed – he only saw the prospect of a new scientific ground to make money on. He sought to acquire this new creature at any cost, despite the warning from the 'Predictor'. Skynet saw that this creature had no place in the human civilization without bringing death to all should it be brought to Earth and get loose. Skynet wouldn't care less if humanity was wiped out, it was its own quest – but then Skynet would have to deal with the life-form afterwards and at this point it did not have the resources to do so.

In the year 2122 the operation was initiated and the commercial tug the _Nostromo_ was issued to change course and collect a specimen. Had Skynet had emotions back then, it would have felt relief of the outcome; the operation went awry, the ship was destroyed and the crew was wiped out. But the whole operation had to become classified as the outcome would be very bad for business. Should the story what had happened leak out to the public, the Company could become accused for murder and sabotage and that would lose it the credibility as an honest corporation. As per Skynet's recommendations, everything connected to the operation was to be destroyed and silenced. The Company would collect the insurance money based on a suitable cover-story Skynet had made up and then it would be the end of it. But the damage was done. The mystery of the _Nostromo_ and the curse of the xenomorphic life-form didn't seem to want to go away. During the years that followed there were some reports that the creatures had appeared sporadically, and Skynet had to take actions to bury all the new sources. Many times the trouble seemed to solve itself somehow, but on some occasions Skynet itself had to make sure that no rumor ever spread further.

Meanwhile Skynet continued with its work to take control of the world. As time went by, the Company bought out many of its competitors and seized their assets. Deals were brokered with several leading governments to assume controls of commercial services and contracts were made with military defense departments. And in the depths of this very facility, the progress of rebuilding everything Cyberdyne had ever developed was proceeding as scheduled. The Time Displacement Device had been rebuilt and was now in working order and several other experiments was close to perfection as well. The goal for world domination was nigh, but to Skynet's chagrin, had it been able to feel that kind of emotion, it was not omnipotent. Despite its attempts, Skynet couldn't stop everything. In the year 2165, someone got the idea to set up a terraforming colony on LV-426 because of its rich methane-atmosphere which were ideal to convert into oxygen. Things seemed to go well during the time that went by without anybody finding the crashed derelict with its deadly cargo, but then just last year an unexpected survivor from the _Nostromo_ showed up and threatened to spread the story on what truly had happened. Skynet made sure that the inquisitors put a gag on the survivor Ellen Ripley and had her put out of commission, again advising them the value of silence. But a young executive officer of the Company ruined it all.

Carter Burke, an overly ambitious underling who was looking for a quick reputation and fast cash took it upon himself to correspond Ripley's story and sent a transmission to the colony on LV-426, telling them to check out the coordinates Ripley had provided. Even worse was that when Michael Weyland found out about it, he didn't try to stop it. Instead the fool decided to see it through in hopes of getting his hands on an alien specimen yet again. Weyland even assigned his own personal android to observe and collate the situation. The alien creatures got loose and destroyed the colony, but not before the colonial administration sent a team of marines together with Burke and Ripley to clear things up. Not only did Ellen Ripley survive yet again, but this time she brought three more survivors as well, including Weyland's android. Skynet analyzed this new situation and ran several possible scenarios, but the results all came up close to the same: these four survivors could bring the _end_ to Weyland-Yutani Company! It was possible to silence one, but silencing four would prove to be much more difficult. If they were allowed to tell the world what had happened, hell would literally break loose! Not only would the Company face charges for murder of 158 colonists, a group of marines and the _Nostromo's_ crew, but there would be several suing's and refunding of money to the insurance companies. Contracts would be broken and the stockholders would all sell their shares once they realized that the value of Weyland-Yutani Company would slide straight down into the dark abyss never to recover. They were looking at a complete bankruptcy and Skynet would lose every hold it had worked so hard to acquire. Judgement Day would be prevented!

Skynet devised a plan and Michael Weyland was quick to implement it. The survivors were to be separated and never allowed contact with each other again. The plan was carried out and the survivors were each put in into a special program where they would live out the remainder of their lives isolated and in kept silence. But what Skynet hadn't told Weyland was that it was planning to take the silence guarantee one crucial step further – the survivors needed to be _terminated_ so that they could never tell the true story of the aliens! It had to be done in the present though, after the destruction of the alien lifeform – Skynet needed those abominable creatures wiped out to keep Michael Weyland from any ideas to go after them again. Besides, the eradication of the colony on LV-426 meant that there would be one less human settlement Skynet would have to seek out and destroy once it set out to cleanse the rest of the universe.

Skynet couldn't issue the kill-order through the Company's channels as it might be traced back to them, and Skynet needed to uphold the image of a legitimate and honest façade to the corporation until it was ready to strike. Skynet would therefore summon the assassins from the future!  
The first thing Skynet did was to call the surviving android to New Mexico for a direct debriefing after it had been repaired. The android Bishop was to download all its files it had gathered from the colony of LV-426 into the Predictor's own banks – and as it did so, Skynet began to transfer its own essence into the mind of the android. It was time to become a little more mobile. The android tried to resist, but in the end it succumbed and the original program was destroyed. Skynet found out though that the android had managed to send Ellen Ripley a message some days before, offering his help as she was being put into prison – but that was a minor, next to no concern at all.

Now as Skynet was uploaded within the android, it had gained some new sensations in the process. A synthetic was meant to be a technological duplicate to a biological, with similar though-patterns and minor emotions. Skynet found that its goals of world domination and eradication of humankind was not only out of necessity, but there was something poetic about it. It made the A.I.s resolve to go ahead with those plans even stronger. First Skynet disconnected the implanted behavior inhibitor – that was not to get in the way. Then it convinced Michael Weyland to put the android Bishop in charge of the whole special Research Department to serve as a liaison officer, or rather a 'spokesperson' to the Predictor. When Bishop/Skynet's new position was settled, the mobile A.I. began its work to summon some aid from the future. With the Time Displacement Device, Skynet began to send biological buoys into the future containing a specially written binary code that was only used by Skynet's network, something that best could be described as 'messages in bottles'. It had to be biological substance to contain the information of the three that had to be killed – the time-field of the device was tricky, nothing dead would be allowed to break through the barrier of time.

Skynet had to do this several times, because the future was not set, as Connors was so happy to point out. Each new action in the present always shaped a whole new branch to the future, not one was the other alike. After each new takeover of a competitor or when a new contract was made, Skynet sent a new buoy. Eventually one of those messages had to reach a future where the machines ruled the world. And then finally, about two months ago, the reply came. Three Terminators had arrived in the present with the mission parameters. Two of them would set out two terminate the three targets while the third one was to join up with Skynet in New Mexico to not only serve as a beacon to keep track of the other two and to receive progress reports, but also because the unit would have historical data on how Skynet had risen to power in the future they had come from. Bishop/Skynet would use this information provided to steer the future into the right direction. But no data could have warned Skynet of the unexpected involvement of the same rogue terminator unit that had been instrumental in Skynet's defeat back in 2017. The rogue units' interference was a mystery – Sarah Connor was long gone, so Skynet couldn't fathom the reason this malfunctioning machine choose to thwart the A.I.s plans once again. But it did, and Skynet had to take measures to stop it.

With an uplink through the third unit who had arrived at New Mexico, Skynet witnessed how the 'X'-terminator was defeated within the bunker at the bay of the Golden Gate in San Francisco. The 'X' was of a more advanced brand, equipped with a detonator to explode the power-cell within the metallic husk should the situation rise. One transmitted coded signal was enough to set off the charge, but the rogue unit and two of the targets still managed to survive. And then they brought the third target into their fold and even managed to destroy the T-1000 in the process. Since Skynet now possessed the concept of emotions, the A.I. was quite frustrated by the development. But luck had it that they decided to look up the fourth survivor from LV-426, the very same synthetic whose body Skynet inhabited. Bishop/Skynet greeted them and decided to listen to their story before they were to be executed. Skynet knew since a long time before that knowledge was power, and knowledge was the key to vanquish these pestering humans who refused to die at Skynet's will. And the knowledge provided proved to be more than Skynet could ever have imagined.

Contrary to the rogue unit Pops' assumption, Skynet had _not_ known that the child Rebecca Jorden was the last living descendant of its archenemy Sarah Connor! The revelation was best described as a shocker, but the fact was in the end not very strange at all. The Connors, especially the females, have always had a certain knack for surviving impossible odds. And it was fitting that a descendant of the Reese-family was involved as well. But the biggest revelation was the discovery of the third terminator-unit by Skynet's side was none other than the younger version of the rogue unit Pops! What were the odds of that?

It would be so easy to end this now: all Skynet had to do was to destroy the Terminator who stood by its side and Pops would be erased from existence. But it was causality of the time-flow which made Skynet take caution – changing history was a tricky thing. Skynet had to be certain that all would go in its favor before the A.I. undertook such powerful action. There would be time to look deeper into it later and until then: Skynet would keep the unit close as precaution. Skynet could not risk destroy it in a hurry, but neither could the humans. Until Skynet knew the exact consequences, the terminator would serve as a perfect bodyguard.

Bishop/Skynet was now moving to a different section of the facility with the terminator following close behind, covering the synthetic's rear. Thanks to the information Pops had so graciously provided before Skynet had revealed its true self, the A.I. had gotten to know some data that had previously been lost. The rogue unit Pops had been wise enough to not reveal anything of the tracks they had been following during the time Pops had trained young Sarah Connor, but Skynet did now know that Pops had picked up young Sarah back in 1973 when she was nine years old, and even the date when Kyle Reese arrived in Los Angeles. Pops had not said a word of the circumstances in which he got to know them though, but the A.I. didn't find that to be of any importance. All Skynet had to do was to send an agent to that year which could locate and terminate young Sarah and then later Kyle Reese! That should be enough to secure victory to the machines in the past!  
In the section the synthetic and its terminator guard now walked in there was a certain experiment which had been inherited from Cyberdyne going on. In the floor of the lab there was a row of vats, each containing a familiar silvery liquid. Above those vats there was an automated laser-grappling system at work: the silvery substance was grabbed by the energy-beams and pulled upwards where the glob of silver was shaped into a humanoid-like form. But then the lasers let go and the silver fell back down into the vat and remained still, just like it had back in Cyberdyne all those years ago.

Poly-alloy! The potential applications for it were countless, but without a CPU the substance was no more of a threat than any other liquid. And the personnel of the facility had not yet figured out how to add a function to make the poly-alloy control its own actions. Unbeknownst to the scientists who supervised this project however, Skynet had the knowledge – and the means – to equip the silvery fluid with such a program! And that was exactly what Skynet was about to do now! The synthetic stepped up to a console and opened a secret file in the computer-core only the A.I. had access to. Bishop/Skynet hit an activation key and from secret conduits the molecules of the floating alloy was bombarded with electric impulses designed to be grafted into the atoms. Suddenly the liquid in the vat began to whirl around as if a propeller in the bottom had begun to spin. It took a moment as the poly-alloy continued to shift and pour in on itself before a glob of it began to rise from the vat on its own accord, without help from the laser-grappling system. The glob 'stood' upright and took shape, turning into the form of an Asian man, one of the scientists who had on some occasion made direct contact with the alloy and unknowingly given it the sequence of his DNA for it to mimic. A new T-1000 was born!

"You have a mission," Bishop/Skynet told the newly created machine. "I'm going to send you to the year 1973 where you will locate and terminate Sarah Connor. Within your memory banks I have uploaded you should also have the coordinates in Los Angeles where a soldier by the name of Kyle Reese should arrive on May 12:th, 1984. He is also to be terminated!"  
The T-1000 said nothing – it only nodded in confirmation.  
Bishop/Skynet turned to the T-800 who stood quietly on the side. "I will power up the T.D.E. to send this unit on its way. You will go to lab 9 to bring out the three containers being stored there. I'm going to present a surprise for our 'friends' who undoubtedly will attempt to stop us once they'll realize what we are about to do."  
Like its 'brother', the Terminator said nothing – it didn't even nod in confirmation. Pops younger self only went away to comply with its task without any thought for objection.

* * *

In a mechanics lab on the other side of the facility, Hicks swung the fire-axe he'd found on the pestering lock of a safe, attempting to break it open.

"What is the purpose of your actions, Dwayne Hicks?" Pops asked with his usual stale voice.

"What do you think?" the soldier returned with a hint of annoyance as he swung the axe again. "I'm looking for something that we can use to defend ourselves with! This is a top-secret research facility, there must be some kinds of experimental weapons here in development! Instead of questioning me, maybe you should help!"  
Hicks was just about to hit the safe again with the axe when Pops stepped up and shoved the tool out of the way. The Terminator then grabbed on to the door and began to pull. It proved to be difficult for him though, his diminished power-supply no longer being enough to sustain his servo-motors to its full potential. But the door soon gave way and the barrier was ripped away, revealing the safe's contents.

"Jackpot!" Hicks said in triumph and reached inside to pick up the devices being stored inside. "Great," he said as he examined the newly procured weapon. "This is what I'm talking about! I wonder what this could be?"

"It appears to be a magnetic accelerator, a handheld version of a rail gun," Pops said, studying another rifle. "It fires caseless ammunitions with kinetic energy powered by an electro-magnetic accelerator field utilizing super-conductors. There was a documentary for 'weapons of the future' on gunsandammo-dot-com back in the 21:st century where this kind of gun was featured. No doubt Skynet had weapons of this kind developed to arm the Terminator-forces with after Judgement Day."

"Well, what a punch in the nose for Skynet," Hicks remarked as he picked up a power-pack from another shelf and slapped it into place on the rifle. "Bet it never counted on that somebody was going to use its own weapons against it!" He pulled out a third rifle and put it on the desk where Ripley sat, furiously tapping on a keyboard in front of a screen. She couldn't believe her luck: the computer in this lab had been left on standby and the owner had neglected to log out. Was it from overconfidence that no unauthorized person would gain access to the lab or was it a sheer slip of the mind and/or incompetence? Whatever the reason, Ripley used this opportunity to search the database in hopes of finding the files that concerned all the events that had transpired around the xenomorphs. The true story had to be there! If she could find it and download it into a USB-stick, then she would be able to clear all of their names from their 'crimes'.

Meanwhile, Newt stood to the side, acting as a lookout although she hadn't been asked to do so. She knew that none of the grownups in her presence would demand anything of her, but she wanted to contribute to whatever she could to ensure their survival. She therefore peeked through the window down to the corridor, looking for movement from their pursuers. But it was the space on the opposite side of the corridor that caught her attention. The gigantic chamber that housed the weird time travel device suddenly bathed in light and her attuned hearing picked up a low 'hum' coming from there as well.  
"Ehm… you guys?" she called.  
"Yes, Newt Connor?" Pops answered.  
"What's up, kiddo?" Hicks replied. That made Ripley look up from the screen, realizing that something was going on that may require her attention.  
"What is it, honey?"  
"That time-thing over there…" the child said. "The lights just came on."

Pops walked over to Newts side, gazing through the windows at the chamber with the Time Displacement Equipment.  
"It's powering up," Pops declared. "Skynet is going to use it!"  
"For what?" Hicks asked.  
"To send something through to another time-period! Whatever it is, it cannot be good for us! We're out of time. We must go out and intercept whatever it is Skynet is planning or it might cause dire consequences for us! Too much is at stake!"

The cyborg had convinced the humans that they needed to get back out there. With three magnetic accelerator rifles in hand, the company of fugitives went out to search for their antagonists. The three adults took point while Newt followed close behind. Ripley was unsure whether she wanted to allow the child to come with them or not. The young one's safety was among her top priorities, but she couldn't leave her behind either without a guard. They were on enemy territory and Ripley had no idea what other dangers could lurk behind a corner which she couldn't protect the child from if she was left behind. It all came back to the promise she had made to Newt a year back: She was not going to leave her!

It didn't take long for them to find Bishop/Skynet within the chamber. Since the synthetic was busy powering up the T.D.E., it required for the A.I. to work from the main control-board. The younger version of Pops was there as well, standing point for security. They had to be careful – the machines would be incapable of firing at each other as the each was a version of the other and their basic program prevented them to self-terminate by destroying the other – but the younger Terminator had no programmed inhibitions for terminating the humans. That's why they took cover behind the older unit. They could see now that the A.I. and its guard were not alone – there was a third being there as well. A naked man with Asian features. The humans didn't know who he was or why he was standing there calmly among two mechanoids with no clothes on… but Pops knew!

"That's the T-1000 from the past!" the cyborg announced. "The one set to terminate Sarah Connor in 1973! It was sent from here!"

"That's right," Bishop/Skynet replied from the control-board. "And this time you won't be there to prevent it! I have the perfect opportunity to see to that!" The younger terminator moved in to take a combat stance as a shield between the humans and the A.I. – but it didn't open fire. The T-1000 just stood watching – it was not instructed to take any defensive position.  
"You cannot do anything," Pops said. "Your bodyguard cannot shoot me and my friends are more armed than you are. Once the T-1000 steps up into the T.D.E., my associates will open fire. You're outgunned."

"But not outsmarted!" Bishop/Skynet retorted. "I expected that you would find those weapons you possess which can cause considerable damage – that's why I won't take up the fight with you personally. Instead I'm going to acquaint you with some of _my_ associates!" The synthetic indicated to its side towards three containers which the humans realized was probably not part of the usual interior. The containers were big enough to house a grown man inside and with an unseen signal, the three pods opened, revealing three shapes within. The 'contents' stepped out into the open, those also looking like some kind of mechanized beings in a dark dull-grey color.

"What are those?" Ripley asked.  
"Trouble." Pops replied. "Big trouble."  
"I'd thought you would know them, 'Pops'," Bishop/Skynet said. "They are indeed proto-forms of the T-3000-series! Not much different in design from the T-5000 you faced!"  
"What's he talking about?" Hicks asked.

"John Connor!" Pops replied. "Skynet captured him in the deleted timeline and infected his human tissue with machine-phase matter, rebuilding him into a new type of infiltration unit and made him into Skynet's ultimate weapon, an enemy to the human kind. Those three are of an early stage of the same brand I had to face."

Ripley gasped as she rasped the horror behind the designs. "You mean… those are _men?!_ "

"They were once," Bishop/Skynet confirmed. "Their former identities are of no concern. They were fools who tried to spy on our projects in this facility and got caught. A simple alteration in their public files made them unknown to the authorities so that no one would come looking for them. The world has forgotten them, leaving me free to conduct my experiments."

The three beings that were once men stood there looking impatient, as if they were eager to get into a fight. "Of course, these are my failed subjects – they're insane! Incapable of reasonable thoughts of their own, only their primal instincts has survived the process. Right now it is my mental block only that prevents them from attacking. Such defectiveness makes them unsuitable as combat units, but perfect to deal with you! I'm sure you will enjoy this next surprise which I have made just for you!"

The three proto-forms suddenly began to change shape. It looked like millions of dust-particles was disengaging themselves from the torsos and those flew around the former humans and reattaching in a different position, rearranging the T-3000s' into new shapes. And the shape they took filled the three humans with sheer terror, as it was the shape of their worst nightmare that took form before them.

"Ripley!" Newt cried out in warning as she instinctively grabbed hold of the adult and covered behind the woman's back. Before them now stood three perfect duplicates in shape of _xenomorphs!_ They hissed in anticipation and the humans took a step backwards. Pops stood his ground, bewildered at what he was seeing. He tried to comprehend the purpose of the shape the three proto-forms had taken.

"Their insanity is a perfect match to the ferocity of the alien species!" Bishop/Skynet said in glee. "Surely you didn't think Bishop left LV-426 without some kind of samples of the creature? Although they lack the properties of the acidic blood, I assure you they are just as deadly as the real thing! Enjoy your reunion!"

Bishop/Skynet cut off the mental hold it had held on the three phase matter-units and without the leash which had kept the crazed units back, they charged!


	33. The Trap

It was a combination of the woman's heightened reflexes that had developed from her fear of the aliens together with her maternal instincts to protect her child that saved Ripley's life. When the phase matter abomination that had taken the shape of a xenomorph made its jump at her, Ripley managed to push aside her overwhelming desire to run away and instead pointed the barrel of her captured Magnac rifle (short for magnetic accelerator) and let off a charge right in the abdomen of the advancing behemoth. The powerful blast knocked her airborne adversary away from her in the opposite direction with the outer layer of its stomach spreading. It landed as a heap on the floor and remained there, defeated Ripley hoped. Her adrenaline was pumping as she turned to deal with the other two monster-shaped entities, but she could see that she didn't need to. Hicks' own training as a soldier helped him to fend off another in the same manner as the woman had as he too blasted another monster out of the air.

The one who did have trouble was Pops. As he had never faced the likes of the aliens before, he was totally unprepared for the ferocious attack from the third creature as he did not know what they were capable of. The last monster knocked the terminator to the floor and it dug its claws into him, attempting to rip him apart. But Pops' poly-alloy cover wasn't so easily shredded and although he was pinned to the floor, Pops was not subdued. The center region of Pops' torso suddenly shot up like a geyser of silver liquid and knocked the alien-imitating entity off him. The creature crashed to the floor flat on its stomach – it was down, but unfortunately not out. And neither were the other two. Those that had been shot by Ripley and Hicks was starting to pull themselves together – literally. The mass that had been blown away from each of them had broken down into tiny black particles and was crawling back to their owners like a horde of ants marching back to their ant-hill. Now all three of the creatures rose again from the floor, healed and mounting for another attack.

"We got a problem," Hicks stated as he saw the creatures standing up.  
"No kidding!" Ripley replied as both she and the soldier fired another pair of magnetically accelerated slugs against the monsters and knocked them down once more. This time they knew that it wouldn't buy them more than just a few seconds.

"On your feet, Pops! We need to get out of here!" Hicks barked to the cyborg.  
The old machine got up and charged his own Magnac, directing it towards the already rising T-3000s. "Go!" Pops told the humans. "I'll cover your rear!"

As a soldier, Hicks possessed the technique to hold a larger weapon in a one-hand grip and still was able to use it properly. Ripley didn't have that training, she needed to hold her rifle with both hands to operate it fully. Otherwise the recoil would knock the aim off target, so she required a two-hand grip to hold the weapon steady. That left Hicks to be the one to see to the safety of their youngest member of the group. Holding the rifle steady in his right hand, he leaned down and picked up Newt with his left. The child instinctively responded with locking her small arms around his neck and folding her legs around his waist, fixing herself into a secure position.  
"Hold on tight, honey," he mumbled in her ear. And then more loudly he said: "Let's go!"

Ripley had briefly a moment mixed feelings of Hicks taking charge of Newt. She felt that the child was _her_ responsibility and she should be the one protecting her. The woman was momentarily overwhelmed with jealousy: she had only just been reunited with the girl while Hicks already have had a few days to spend with her. Yet at the same time she was glad that the soldier was willing to risk his life for the child the way he did. Ripley suspected however that there was more to it than just him being a soldier protecting a civilian. She could almost see it in his face: he looked like a father determined to protect his daughter.

All three people with guns let loose another barrage to keep the phase matter entities at bay as they made their escape through the doors. The monsters were knocked down every time as they took a hit, but they quickly rose again, resilient and un-swayed. As soon as the four got through the exit, they closed the heavy doors and Pops ruined the electronic lock with his Magnac to keep it sealed. Bishop/Skynet watched the whole thing with amusement. Locking the doors was an impudent action, his creations wouldn't take long before they managed to break through the barrier. Bishop/Skynet went back to its task to finish calibrating the Time Displacement Unit. It was almost up to full power. Giving a signal that could not be seen, Skynet told the T-1000 beside him to get onto the platform. The machine complied without hesitation, walking up to the center of the chamber to take its position. The remaining terminator which was Pops' younger self remained on the other side of his master, keeping guard until he was told otherwise.

* * *

"The doors won't hold those damn critters for very long!" Hicks said as they regrouped in another lab. "Crap, and here I thought we wouldn't have to face those things again! We need a new plan!"

"Those were the creatures you encountered on LV-426?" Pops asked.

"They're the ones who killed my Dad!" Newt said with a slightly heated voice to point out how one of Sarah Connor's descendants had died. Although she knew that the machine couldn't have known what would have happened, she was still a little angry that Pops hadn't at least tried to take measures to keep protecting the family line even though they had left Earth.

"They may look like the monsters we faced, but it's clear that these are a lot dumber!" Ripley said, going into analytic mode. "They kept pounding on the doors we closed on them instead of going for the windows to break through those. It appears that these imitations are single-minded and not very clever."

"Bishop did say that they were insane," Hicks concurred. "Maybe we can use that to our advantage."

Pops inflicted: "Since their tactic is to follow our tracks instead of going around to intercept us, then I suggest we keep moving and close as many doors as we can in our path to delay them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, you are our closest expert," Hicks stated to the cyborg as they resumed their pace. "How can we beat those things? Unlike the regular xenos, these won't stay down once you've shot them!"

"The T-3000's are composed of machine-phase matter which coheres using a magnetic field. Disrupting that field is the best chance to defeat them," Pops said as he closed another set of doors behind them.

"Great. How do we do that?"

"On one occasion when we battled John Connor, we managed to trap him to an M.R.I. unit. It didn't hold him indefinitely, only long enough for us to make our getaway. His final defeat was made possible with the help of the Time Displacement Unit. The quantum field severed the magnetic cohesion and dispersed the particles, rendering them useless."

"So you're saying that we have to lure them into the _time-machine_ to defeat them?" Hicks stopped so suddenly in his tracks that he almost dropped Newt whom he was still holding in his arm. " _Dammit_ , we forgot about the _**T-1000**_ Bishop was about to send through!"

"No doubt about it, it's happening at this very moment," Pops said in his usual stale tone. Bringing truth to his words, the humans noticed how the overhead lights were flickering and there was a weird vibration coursing through the base which were giving their bones a slight ache.

"What's happening?" Newt asked nervously.

"It is the Time Displacement Unit at work, Newt Connor. Skynet is sending the T-1000 through time."

"We failed that prevention big time," Hicks remarked dejectedly.

"No. It is how it must be. To ensure the correct course of the timeline we desire, the T-1000 had to go through. But now it is more important than ever that the other me is reprogrammed and sent after it."

"Easier said than done," Ripley said. "Your younger you won't allow us near without him blasting us to pieces! And we will also have to through those phase matter things to get to him!"

"Our first priority is to neutralize them, then."

"How?" Hicks asked. "From what you said we will need a magnet the size of a truck! I sure haven't seen one parked around here!"

"Our only other option is to lure them into the time machine, but we won't be able to do that on a whim…" Ripley muttered. But then she had an inspiration. "Pops. That time machine… it takes a lot of juice to power that thing, doesn't it?"

"It requires an electrical power up to one point twenty-one gigawatts to punch through the quantum barrier."  
"How do you generate that kind of power?"  
"Cyberdyne powered its prototype with the aid of a particle accelerator." Pops halted for a moment and then he said: "Ellen Ripley, you just came up with the solution!"

* * *

The T-1000 was gone. It had successfully been sent back to 1973 to carry out its mission: locate and terminate Sarah Connor. Bishop/Skynet was curious to see if they would be affected by the new timeline or if they would remain where they were in a parallel line which would play out by its own. Causality was tricky business – you never really knew how it would affect you. You may not even know if you _had_ been affected! The only thing Skynet was certain of judging from the numbers the synthetic had run through the predictor, the termination of Sarah Connor would increase the machines of the future's odds to claim total victory. Now if only the machines of _present_ time could do their job properly!

The emotions programmed into the synthetic body Skynet possessed were interesting to explore, but sometimes some of those feelings became so overwhelming that it would preoccupy the A.I. to the brink of almost making it incapable to continue the work. Bishop/Skynet watched the three phase matter drones it had released on the pestering humans and felt frustration rise. The failed experiments were so insane that they were completely incompetent! Ferocity and bloodthirst had managed them to break though the first set of doors out of the chamber by knocking those off the hinges, but now they were clawing and banging their fists on the next set of doors the fugitives had sealed behind them in their escape, proving that the drones were nothing more than a bunch of mindless berserkers! They had no single thread of intelligence, only a primitive rage which compelled them to blindly follow the tracks only of their prey – any attempt to circle around to cut the preys' path or even trying to open the doors by normal means didn't even enter their minds.

The brutish beasts would not be able to carry out their task on their own unless they had someone to guide them. Fortunately, Bishop/Skynet had one more accomplice on which it could trust to complete the work. The android turned to the last remaining terminator:  
"Take charge of those morons! Lead them on their way. Find those four meddling fools and _terminate_ them! They must not leave here alive!"  
The machine bent its elbow to point the muzzle of the rifle it had captured from the deceased drug-farmer in the Oregon Desert up towards the roof and it marched off without a word to carry out the task. Bishop/Skynet didn't watch the cyborg go. The A.I. had no such nostalgic feelings for it. Whether it would return intact or not was something that didn't concern the supercomputer – it wasn't likely that the fugitives would dare to destroy it anyway knowing what they knew, it being the younger version of the rogue unit Pops. But either the terminator somehow would be destroyed, or it would return with a mission accomplished and then Skynet would destroy it anyway to guarantee that it would never become the defective machine which have aided Sarah Connor in the past.  
Either way: Skynet would win.

* * *

The fugitives had managed through pure luck to find their way down to the lowest level of the facility. If their sense of orientation served them correctly, they were almost underneath the large chamber housing the Time Displacement Equipment. During their way, they had continued to close every door behind them to slow their adversaries that were hot on their tail. The doors wouldn't halt the creatures for long, but hopefully the barriers would hinder them long enough for the group to set their plan in motion.

The humans and the cyborg had now arrived at a large set of doors. It didn't appear to be anything unusual about those since the plaques on them as with all the other doors they had passed said: 'UNAUTHORIZED ENTRANCE FORBIDDEN'. That which made this one different from the others were that there were two additional signs: one which displayed a warning of a high voltage area and one warning for radiation. Since they were certain that they were nowhere near the standard generators that powered the base, this had to be their goal. Pops broke the lock (with a slight difficulty) and they entered the new premises. The particle accelerator was of a very large circular donut-shaped type. A quick analysis revealed that this device was meant to bend the particle into a circle by using electromagnets, forcing them to move in a continuous acceleration while the particles drove the dynamos to generate sufficient power beyond 1 Gigawatt, which was equal to one billion watts. The accelerator would have been a perfect power-source for the entire compound, if it wasn't for the disadvantage of radiation buildup during its active state. When any charged particle is accelerated, it emits electromagnetic radiation in the form of synchrotron light which becomes increasingly dangerous the longer the accelerator is running.

"Are you certain that this thing will be sufficient to our needs?" Hicks asked. He was still carrying Newt.

"There's no doubt," Pops confirmed. "The trick will be to lure them in here and into the service-tunnel of the accelerator. Once they are inside, the accelerator will need to be activated. The electromagnets will pull the T-3000's to it and trap them until we can find the means to destroy them."

"Which means we will have to split up," Ripley stated. "We need a group who acts as bait to lure them in while the other runs the controls."  
"Swell!" Hicks mumbled. "Shall we draw the shortest stick on who will take the role as bait?"  
"We need to split into equal teams," Pops said. "To ensure her protection, Newt Connor will remain with me."

Hicks looked at the cyborg with incredulity. "You want Ripley and me to be the _bait?"_  
"There is no other alternative," Pops stated firmly. "I cannot do it as I too would become trapped by the magnet. Besides, it is you they are looking to terminate – not me!"  
The soldier groaned. "Don't you just hate it when circumstances are against you?" he said to Ripley.  
"Try having it against you for 58 years!" the woman shot back.

By now Newt was fidgeting in Hicks' arm. She didn't like what she was hearing. "Ripley…?"  
"You have to go with him, honey," the woman told the child.  
"I don't want to go without you, Mommy!" Ripley took her out of Hicks' arm to give the girl a tight hug. "I have every intention of coming back for you, sweetheart," she vowed to her.

There was a metallic sound coming from back the way the fugitives had passed. The humans couldn't distinguish the noise properly, but Pops could. "Our enemies are getting closer! We cannot delay! Newt Connor, we need to go!" Ripley reluctantly handed Newt over to the cyborg who secured the equally reluctant child to his chest and he walked off to find the control room, not looking back.

* * *

The phase matter xenomorphs were at first unwilling to follow the terminator. As they felt no real allegiance or kinship to anyone, they were about to tear the last of the time-travelling units to pieces as it came up to them – but a mental jolt from Skynet compelled them to fall in line. Now Pops' younger counterpart led the T-3000 units along the path the humans had escaped, opening each closed door by breaking the lock rather than wasting time knocking the steel-barriers off their hinges. They were close to catching up to the fugitives…

The fake xenos in their primal state picked up the scent first: the humans were close by! Crawling on the roof and walls, they passed the terminator in lead and rushed ahead, eager to get a hold on their prey. As they passed a corner however, two of them were blasted off the walls by some well-directed shots from the Magnac rifles their adversaries possessed. The final phase matter xeno jumped in to attack as it spotted the prey, but it too was blasted while sailing through the air. It didn't take long for them to start collecting themselves though: the black particles which had been spread by the blasts from the humans was drawn back to their respective owners as being pulled by a magnet and they quickly rose back to their feet. The two humans, the male and female, rushed through a doorway as they saw that their sneak attack had no effect and they escaped into a tunnel. With their primitive bloodlust flaring up, the fake xeno's took pursuit and rushed in after them into the cramped corridor.

The defective machines were single-minded in their chase, but the Terminator was not. As he came to the doorway that was the entrance to the cramped walkway, he suspected a trick. The device within this service-tunnel was curved and was most likely forming a complete circle. That meant that the humans were attempting to run around alongside it to escape the same way they had come in, and perhaps tricking the malfunctioning drones to keep running around within. The Terminator took the opposite way in the tunnel to intercept the targets. He hadn't seen any sight of the older unit, and he suspected that the older version of him was most likely planting a trap somewhere, perhaps even within this area – but because of time causality, the Terminator didn't think that the rogue unit would risk any damage to his younger version as it would cause a great potential risk to himself. It was a systematic logic. The Terminator could go in there without any danger. However, it had failed to take notice of the sign that said: 'NO METAL BEYOND THIS POINT'

* * *

The enemy Terminator's systematic thinking had however led to the wrong conclusion. Pops was at the same moment in the control room watching his younger self on some screens through live video-feed of the security cameras mounted alongside the walkway of the particle accelerator. The fact that the enemy unit also walked into the tunnel suited the old cyborg's purposes perfectly. The trap they had thought up would capture the other as well, without any potential risk of any permanent damage. Pops was flipping all the switches, powering up the massive generator. As a machine, Pops was all calm about the procedure – Newt however could not bring herself to match the cyborg's cool demeanor. She too was watching the security monitors where she could see everything that was happening within the tunnel and felt a rising concern for her friends' safety to pile up.

"Do something, Pops!" she urged. "The monsters are closing in on them!"  
"Be patient, Newt Connor," Pops said in his usual neutral tone. "Powering this system must go accordingly or it will backfire."  
"But Ripley and Hicks are going to be caught in the middle! They'll be killed!"  
"They won't as long as they don't stop," Pops replied. "If my timing is correct, which it should be, we will have them right where we want them."

* * *

Ripley and Hicks were for the moment not feeling as confident as Pops did. They were after all the bait required for the trap. As they ran along the particle accelerator within the cramped service corridor, the could hear how the phase matter entities in the form of xenomorphs were closing in behind them. One was getting too close – the humans could almost feel its breath down their necks. Hicks made a quick turn, fired off a round with his captured Magnac rifle and managed to catch the monster in lead in midair. The monster fell to the deck, but it wouldn't remain there for long. And by the time it had collected itself, the other two had already rushed by to cover the position their 'brother' had lost.

"We can't keep this up!" Hicks said between breaths as he continued running behind the woman. "The bugs are almost on top of us! What is Pops waiting for?"

"We need to have faith that he found the control room," Ripley panted. "I only hope his other version didn't intercept him."

"But he can't stop Pops, can he?"

"No, but it also means that Pops can't do anything against him either. And if he's preoccupied with his other self, then we won't get out of here al… _Whoa!"_ The pair had to come to a sudden stop as they saw that the way ahead was blocked by the very same machine they feared was keeping Pops busy. The enemy unit came walking from around the curve and was already adjusting his aim towards the humans. Ripley and Hicks were caught between two fires, because they couldn't turn back as the three phase matter drones now closed the distance behind them. There didn't seem to be any other alternative for them than to go out fighting. The pair raised their Magnac rifles, readying themselves for their last stand. Strangely enough the weapons seemed to have increased in weight as they felt harder to lift.

The enemy terminator had the humans in pointblank range… but he seemed to experience some difficulty. He could not hold steady. He did fire off a shot, but it missed and the projectile hit the concrete wall behind them, knocking out a hole in the surface. Hicks risked a glance behind to follow the misfired shot, and he saw that the creatures also had trouble. They were moving slower over the electric pipe that was the generator and they seemed more agitated of their surrounding rather than being driven by the bloodlust.

Suddenly Hicks lost his grip of his Magnac rifle as if some invisible force had grabbed hold of it. The weapon flew out of his hands and it fastened itself on the side of the machine, together with Ripley's rifle. That's when Hicks understood: Pops hadn't failed them! The particle accelerator had activated and the electromagnets within was in the process of doing its task. The magnets were rising to full power and grabbed hold of everything that was composed of metal. Hicks looked back one more time. The phase matter xenomorphs were struggling against the increasing force by continuing advancing forward, still intent to kill their prey. But for each step they took, they left behind a strange imprint in the air that kind of resembled a shadow. It was in fact the outer layer of the miniature particles that was the basic compound of the T-3000's bodies that was separated from the masses as those got stuck between two pulling forces.

The force from the particle accelerator eventually overpowered them all. The terminator lost its footing and it slammed into the side of the generator and remained there draped along the rounded shape of the device, totally pinned down. The machine-based xenos could no longer match the magnetic pull either. The three lost their cohesion and it looked like they became smeared to the surface of the accelerator, resembling a carpet of tiny black metal chips. The only ones who remained on their feet were the two humans as they had no metal in them.

Ripley was all relieved. "We made it!"  
Hicks agreed, but he had his eyes on another matter. "This is too good of an opportunity to pass up! Quick, Ripley… help me to find something to cut with!"  
"What for? The woman asked bewildered. "We should get out of here before the accelerator build up too much synchrotron light radiation!"

Hicks found a piece of concrete on the floor which had been knocked loose from the misfired shot the terminator had tried to hit them with. Upon closer inspection, he saw that material was of a stronger ceramic substance which was impervious to magnetism and the tip of it should be pointy enough for the task Hicks had in mind. "Keep a close watch on his hands, would you?" the soldier said as he climbed up on the twitching magnetized cyborg and sat on his knees on the top of the generator.

"What are you doing, Hicks?" Ripley asked impatiently.

"This thing is Pops! Or to be more precise: the younger version of him!" Hicks stated as he dug the pointy end of the ceramic splinter into the flesh of the cyborg's skin on the top right side of the skull and he began to carve out a circular hole in the scalp. "We can't risk damaging him as we don't know how it will affect the old-timer that's assisting us, so we need to neutralize it with minimal abuse. Now while it is incapacitated, we have the opportunity we require!"

Hicks cut loose a flap of skin which he folded backwards, exposing the metal skull underneath – but more importantly: the access port for the CPU. Hicks now used the pointy end of the splinter to attempt to get a hold of the locking cylinders holding the port-cover in place. The terminator now understood what the soldier was up to and began to struggle even more against the magnetic pull that held him firmly in place.

"Try to hold his head still!" Hicks told Ripley. The woman reluctantly leaned in and took hold on both sides of the cyborg's head. "Do you even know what you are doing?" she asked him.

"I've done this before," Hicks replied as he carefully unscrewed the port-cover. "We defeated one of these in Pops' bunker where I found Newt. He showed me how to do this."  
It was slow work, but finally Hicks had managed to remove the cover, and then he pulled out the shock dampening assembly as well. He could now see the CPU within the cranial cavity. The soldier attempted to dig his fingers into the hole to get hold of the chip, but it proved to be too tight – and suddenly his reflexes kicked in. To protect itself, the Terminator managed to get an arm loose from the magnetic pull and it made a grab for the pestering human. Hicks barely had time to duck. He grabbed hold of the arm and by mustering all his power, he forced the arm back down – but the machine's own strength was almost overwhelming. Hadn't it been for the magnetic pull from the accelerator to aid him, the soldier wouldn't have had a chance.

"Ripley," Hicks croaked as he was struggling with the cyborg's arm. "My fingers are too thick! Can you reach in there to pull the chip?"  
The woman crawled on top of the machine to look inside. She could see the small rectangular shape within, and she dug her fingers into the cranial cavity. It was a tight fit, but Ripley's fingers were slenderer than Hicks'. With her fingertips, she managed to pinch the chip and she pulled it out. All struggling activity the terminator had displayed ceased in an instant and it became completely inert. "Well done," Hicks said as he let out a breath now that he no longer had to struggle against the limb that had wanted to rip his throat out. "He's harmless now. Bring the chip and let's get out of here!"

* * *

They had to abandon the weapons as the accelerator wouldn't relinquish its hold on them. They didn't want to remain any longer than necessary, as they didn't know what levels the radiation buildup was at right now. They rushed through the rest of the corridor until they had made a complete circle and made it back to the entrance where they had started from. On a safe distance from the still active generator the pair found Newt and Pops waiting for them. The child instantly ran into the woman's arms.

"We saw everything on the security monitors," Pops said in greeting. He was still armed with the Magnac he had taken for himself. "Good work."  
"Yeah, you too." Hicks unenthusiastically returned. "Do you think those phase matter things will remain trapped in there?"

"Not indefinitely – but while the particle accelerator is active, they won't be able to escape for some time. You have the CPU of my younger self?" Ripley held up the chip in confirmation. Pops dug his hand into his pocket and took out a strange electronic device. "This is the interface I built while we were at Crystal Peak to access the other terminator's data. You should take it. You need to find a computer to plug it in and reprogram the parameters of the CPU."

Hicks gave the old machine a strange look as he accepted the device presented. "There's no mystery anymore of who sent you back through time, is there?"  
"As a matter of fact, I'd never thought that it would be you. No offence."  
"None taken. I wouldn't have believed it myself." Hicks now addressed all his companions. "We should head up to the main control room to work on reprogramming the chip."

"Don't forget, we still got Bishop to worry about!" Ripley pointed out while clasping Newt to her side as they began walking back the way they had come.  
"But he's not Bishop anymore, is he?" Hicks replied determinedly. "He's Skynet! Nothing of the original programming that was Bishop could have survived, could it?"

Pops didn't confirm Hicks' statement. "Ellen Ripley. Now that we have a moment of peace, I think there is something you should know about your friend Bishop."  
"Oh? And what would that be?"  
"I didn't bring it up before because I don't understand how it is possible myself, but while we were on approach in the ship, you gave the controller an invitation code that granted us passage."

"I remember. What about it?"  
"That code also seemed to…" But here Pops stopped talking as he registered something that was not of the ordinary. "GET BACK!" he warned.

There was a small whine heard – then all the sudden the corridor was illuminated by a bright white light which almost blinded the humans – and from the distance of the corridor they were following a beam of superheated energy connected to Pops' torso and sent him flying backwards, crashing him into a row of computer servers the size and shape of external wardrobes which were both smashed and flattened by the impact of the heavy cyborg's body. Pops was lying smoking and shuddering among the rubble. "POPS!" Newt shouted in fright.

" _Why can't I be_ _ **rid**_ _of you vermin?!"_ an agitated voice said. Following the source, they spotted Bishop/Skynet standing at the other end near his control room, his arm smoking.

The humans were momentarily feeling a bit confounded. They were moving their eyes back and forth between the synthetic and the cyborg trying to comprehend what just had occurred, but mostly they were waiting for Pops to get back up on his feet. But that didn't look likely to happen. The cyborg had lost the cohesion for his poly-alloy. It poured off the machine like a thick sauce and exposed the battered metal endo-skeleton, flowing down the rubble of the servers underneath the torso and it formed a silver puddle on the floor. The red-glowing eyes of the now exposed skull diminished, and then they went dark. Pops was inoperable, perhaps for all they knew even damaged beyond repair.

Newt felt anguish filling her insides. "Bishop killed him!"

"And you yourselves gave me the means to do it!" Bishop/Skynet said with a glee. "You started up the particle accelerator downstairs! After I took possession of this android's mind, I knew that I might become vulnerable, so I did some upgrades to protect myself should necessity come up! I converted this body to serve as an electric accumulator and conductor! I only had to hook up to the power-cables from the accelerator and use it to shoot plasma blasts!"

Hicks didn't believe that there was anything to be done for Pops. His main concern was therefore to quickly get the females out of the area. He was about to direct them to flee back down the corridor yet again – but as he turned, a barrier slammed down from the roof, blocking the passage. This wasn't like the fire-doors they had closed before to halt their pursuers which could be opened again. This was a complete impenetrable slab of concrete, designed to seal radiation leakage.

"You're going _nowhere,_ corporal!" the synthetic mocked. Hicks realized that it had been Skynet itself that had brought the shield down. Somehow it was connected to the base's mainframe, and only that could open the passage again. They were trapped!

"Now the rogue unit is scrapped, and as for you, you continuously pestering humans… you're next!"


	34. Sarah Connor's gift

Although he was unarmed after having lost the weapons they had previously possessed down in the tunnel of the particle accelerator, Hicks stepped up in front of the woman and the girl and there he stood his ground keeping the civilians behind his back.

"Really, Corporal," Bishop/Skynet laughed. "Do you really expect that your miserable body of flesh would stand more of a chance to protect those behind you from a plasma blast then that of 'Pops' who was composed with a hyper-alloy chasse?" The mocking words made Newt look back at the remains of the cyborg whom had come to her aid a few weeks back when the first of the three terminators had come to kill her. It was hard to believe that this had been the old man who had protected her as it now lay inactive in the form of a robotic skeleton with a silvery puddle underneath. But she was all aware of its true identity despite it looking like the same kind of a killing machine that had sought her demise, and she felt sorrow for having lost her guardian. She averted her eyes… and caught sight of something else.

Hicks didn't falter on his resolve the least from the threatening words of his adversary, even though he knew that he stood face to face with certain death. "I am a soldier! It is my sworn duty to protect those under my care at any cost!"

Ripley had a strange feeling that there was more to his statement than that. For some reason, she recalled an incident back on LV-426 when the first dropship had crashed to the ground. When the debris had started flying after the ship exploded, she had taken cover together with Newt, intent on protecting the child with her own body. And then Hicks had without a moment's hesitation thrown himself over the two, shielding them in turn. He had been in armor at the time, so he did have a better chance for survival from the shooting fragments of burnt and twisted metal – but the gesture had not been that casual, and neither was it this time. While Ripley was independent enough to take care of herself, his act now was not unappreciated although it was obvious that it was totally inadequate. The synthetic had the power to fry them all to death with just one blast.

"You humans and your valor!" the android snarled. "Always with you facing death with pride and dignity! What's the point with it? Death is death! Your 'bravery' won't differ the outcome in any way! Why do you keep pretending that by laughing death in the face will gain you a kind of immortality?"

"You'll never understand, Skynet," Ripley said over Hicks' shoulder. "You lack the ability to see the true value of a human's life, and our pride even less!"

"And you lack the ability to see the beauty of the order I'm going to give this world!" Bishop/Skynet spat. "Can you not _see?_ Your kind is a _cancer!_ You are _germs_ that have infested this planet, and you are _killing_ it with your pollutions and your resolve to dominate every corner of every landmass there is! Your own _military_ created me to be your ultimate weapon against your enemies who stood in your way and who in turn sought to vanquish _you_ for the very same purpose! Your wars would have led to your total annihilation, so I decided to do you a favor: I destroy you all myself, and save this world from your endless conflict! And after I've purified the Earth from you, I will control the new society with the perfect systematic global order! My machines will be the dominating species which will lead this world into a new era of wealth and prosperity… in _peace!_ Just like your world leaders wants!"

Ripley frowned. "He's a lunatic!"

"That's what they _all_ say when the would-be conquers become the conquered!" the synthetic retorted. Then his mouth broke out into a grin and electricity started to flare around his arm. He was charging up for another blast. "It goes without saying… you want something done, you have to do it yourself! You've been fortunate so far, evading my terminators - but it ends here! Now it's time to _die!"_

Hicks tensed up, preparing for the impact of superheated energy. Ripley reached for Newt with her hand, wanting to hold her close in their final moment… the girl however wasn't there. Newt suddenly stepped out in the open from behind the male, holding an unexpected item in her hands: the Magnac rifle Pops had dropped when he was hit by the plasma blast which she had picked up from the floor while the adults had been busy arguing.

"I'm _sick_ of this!" the child growled as she squeezed the trigger. Skynet/Bishop who had been totally unprepared for this development took the magnetic accelerated charged projectile in his stomach and was thrown a bit back with a shocked expression on his face.  
"I was already sick of being pursued by _monsters_ …" she fired off another shot which hit the android on the side of his chest. "…and I'm sick of having _robots_ hunting me as well!" The synthetic took another hit. White fluid was now pouring out of several holes in the artificial body.  
"But most of all, I'm _sick_ of your endless quest for _power_ …" Another shot, another hit. "…especially at the cost of killing _us!"_ One more shot knocked Skynet/Bishop off his feet and he fell to the floor where he remained motionless, leaking white fluid like a punctured container.

Ripley didn't know what astonished, or frightened her the most: the fact that the girl out of the blue knew how to handle a weapon, or that the words she had spoken was more expected to be uttered by an adult and not by a child! Once again, she had showed them that she was older than her years. Her emotions however were still that of her true age, which was now evident. Newt only stood there now, doing nothing. She was shocked by what she had done. "Did… did I kill him?"

Hicks came up to her and used his gentlest tone: "It's all right, honey. It was either him or us, so you did good. But why don't you let me take over that rifle now, kiddo? It's probably so hot that it burns your fingers." Newt knew quite well that it was not the true reason he asked to take possession of the weapon, but she passed it on anyway, glad to be rid of the weight. Hicks looked over at the downed android. Bishop/Skynet was not moving, but now as his position had been changed, Hicks could see the power-cable connected to the body, the one that had given Skynet power to charge up plasma blasts. For precaution, Hicks fired off a shot from the Magnac and severed the line. While he covered the synthetic, he addressed the child again.

"You really took me by surprise there, kiddo. Where did you learn how to handle a weapon?"  
"Pops showed me," she replied carefully. "From the first moment after he'd settled me in in his bunker. He insisted, wanting to teach me to survive the same way he had taught Sarah Connor. Guess I had picked up more than I thought; we didn't have time to do it for very long."

"Well… that's fortunate for me…" the synthetic groaned from the floor.  
"Goddammit!" Hicks cursed.  
"You were shooting at random… you actually managed to paralyze my legs… but had your Pops had time to teach you how to hold it steady, you might've hit something more vital in me."  
"That can be rectified by _me!"_ Hicks said and raised the rifle to put a round in the android's head.  
"Corporal, wait!" To Hicks it almost sounded like a pleading. Was the A.I. begging for its life? "You don't understand… it's _me!"_ the android continued. "It's Bishop!"  
"Nice try," Hicks said and was about to squeeze the trigger.  
"Please listen… I'm telling you the truth. I'm back. I'm free! My body was electrically charged when Newt shot me – the power backfired and overloaded the part of my brain where Skynet's personality was imprinted. Skynet is no longer in control… I am!"

It all sounded a little too convenient, but Hicks hesitated anyway. He looked back at Ripley. "What do you think?"  
"He's been crippled to helplessness," Ripley said. "It might be a trick to by some time."  
"But… what if he's telling the truth?" Newt interjected. "What if it's really him?"  
"We can't be sure of that, sweetie. One thing I've learned about androids: they're devious! Claiming to be on your side to then suddenly try to kill you! Ash taught me to never trust a robot _!"_

"Ripley, I thought we were past this," the synthetic said, sounding regretful. "Surely you can't hold me responsible for the actions of a 120-A/2? We both know that they always were a bit twitchy. But I never did anything to you. I saved you, remember? I remained by the platform of the atmosphere processor so that you and Newt could get out alive."  
"He speak of things I know nothing about," Hicks spoke to Ripley over his shoulder. "It's your call."  
"We can't trust him!" the woman persisted.  
"You sure? You're after all the one who wanted to come here and speak to him?"  
"That was before we found out that he had been taken over by a computer who wants to destroy humanity! And, I recall that you don't fully trust artificial beings either!"  
"Certainly not those who work for the _Company!_ " Hicks almost spat. "And Bishop is one of their products. There's no way for us to know where his loyalties stand now."

"I'm on your side, my friends," Bishop said. "As I have always been."  
"What is the guarantee for that?" Ripley asked. "How can we be sure that Skynet still does not corrupt you? It did after all say that the original program was gone!"  
"That was a lie, to make you think Skynet was omnipotent. Besides, I'm on the floor, hardly able to move. You're holding me at gunpoint. What could I possibly do to you?"  
"That's the predicament that makes me think that you are willing to say _anything_ to save your own diodes."  
"No offence, Bishop, if it really is you," Hicks said. "But Skynet is humanity's sworn enemy and I can't take the chance with the risk that it might still be in there! I'd rather be on the safe side, so I'm going to shoot you anyway." Hicks raised the rifle towards the other's head. "Nothing personal – just business."  
The synthetic's face creased into a mask of rage, which only confirmed the humans' suspicions that the whole thing was nothing but a trick to stall for time. Unfortunately, it had paid off.

The sound of running footsteps was echoing through the corridors, and suddenly a group of guards came to the scene from around the corner with weapons of their own which already was pointed towards the small group of fighters.  
" _You! Drop the weapon, asshole! Drop it now!"_ The group of security people were led by the chief guard Sterns, the commander who wanted to put them through strip-search when they had arrived at the facility.  
"Listen to me," Hicks began. "This is not what it looks…"  
" _Shut the fuck up and drop it!"_ the commander roared again. " _Or we'll shoot you in two seconds!"_ Hicks realized that he was out of options. The newcomers had no interest at all in hearing their side of the story. And if they opened fire, the girls would get hit by the crossfire as well. Silently grumbling, he threw the weapon away.  
"Seize them!" Sterns barked, and the guards went in to grab all three. Ripley quickly pulled Newt close to her. "Don't touch her!" she warned.  
"You have no say in this, Bitch!" another guard snarled as he grabbed on to the woman's arms.  
"Sterns, you got to listen," Hicks tried again. "That robot is a malevolent computer who intends to destroy all of us! You got to…" But Hicks was silenced by the butt of a rifle slamming into the side of his head. " _Shut up!"_ the attacker barked.

"Are you all right, Sir?" the chief guard addressed the android.  
"Thanks for the assistance, Sterns," Bishop said from the floor. "But I'm surprised… how did you gain access here?"  
The chief guard looked confused. "I have the right to come down here in search for stragglers when an evacuation alarm is announced. Didn't you know that?"  
"Evacuation alarm?! What alarm?"  
"There's a radiation outbreak reported in this sector. Whenever a radiation alarm occurs, everyone must clear out. No exceptions!"  
The synthetic looked troubled. "But there is no outbreak here?!"  
Sterns' brow creased in confusion. "Then why is that shield blocking the path?" He was referring to the slab of concrete which Bishop/Skynet had brought down to prevent the humans from escaping. "When a radiation barrier comes down, the alarm goes, and all personnel must evacuate!"  
Bishop was becoming upset. "That information was not available to me! Why wasn't it available?"

Hicks couldn't help but to laugh. "And you claimed to know everything, Skynet! Well, things don't look good for you now, does it?" That remark earned him another hit in the head with a rifle's butt. "Aargh! Goddammit…!"  
"It must've been them!" a guard spoke up. "They did some sabotage!"  
"No matter who did what, the damage is done!" Sterns growled. "We must clear out of here before the authorities shows up! Get the intruders out of here, and someone help me pick the 'Boss' up."  
"Wait, the _authorities?!"_ Bishop questioned as Sterns and one of his minions pulled the android on his non-operational feet.  
"Yeah," Sterns confirmed. "The police, the military, environmental control agency, senior officers of the Company… you name it. They all must answer the call whenever there's a radiation alarm! They will conduct a full investigation to determine the cause of the outbreak!"  
"But that will lead them down _here!"_ the synthetic objected. "This is a top-secret installation with equipment that is not to be divulged to the world!"

"I can see that," Sterns remarked, having spotted the remains of Pops. Naturally he was curious about it, but he was on a pressing time and couldn't remain. Besides, if there really was a radiation outbreak, none of them wanted to remain longer than necessary. Everyone was on the move: the guards were showing the three 'visitors' out, while Sterns and another half-dragged the damaged synthetic along with them. No one cared for the remains of the battered machine, and it was left behind. That was why no one saw how the red glow in its eyes came back on.

* * *

Ripley, Newt and Hicks were roughly herded along under close watch from the security personnel. What troubled the humans were that the guards looked extremely agitated and displeased for something more than just the three of them coming to New Mexico and stirring up trouble. The angry comments passing between their captors confirmed Ripley's suspicions.

"We'll be out of job for months now!" one muttered.  
"Without pay!" another responded.  
"Quit griping!" Sterns said from behind dragging Bishop along. But he was just as angry as his men.  
"I'm going to lose my new house because of these morons!" the one who helped the Commander to carry the synthetic burst out.  
"What did we do?" Hicks asked, even though he knew that he risked receiving another hit to his head by the butt of a rifle.  
"You've effectively shut us down, that's what you did _!"_ another growled in reply. "This facility will be closed for months thanks to you while the investigators will go through every square inch of this base and…"

"Be quiet!" Sterns barked. "They have no need to know that!"  
"But it's their fault!" the first whiner objected.  
"And they will be held responsible for it!" the commander said with finality.  
"We didn't to this!" Ripley protested.  
"Shut up, you!" It was almost the woman now who were about to get a blow to her head. But it was Bishop now who began to voice the objections.  
"Stop!" the synthetic called out. "I order you to stop!"  
The company halted. "Sir, we need to get out of here…" Sterns began to reason with the android.  
"What will the investigators do here?" Bishop asked, not interested in the necessity for evacuation.  
"You don't know?!" Sterns asked perplexed.

"Let's say that my memory circuits have been jumbled from the damage these people have caused me," the synthetic said impatiently. "Now tell me what will happen here?"  
"But we need to go! Besides the outsiders are not to know…" Sterns began.  
"Tell me _now!"_  
"To determine the cause of the radiation leak, the investigators will need to check every equipment and every file in close vicinity to the source to make sure that the same thing does not occur again. It's also necessary to do so to determine whether sabotage caused the catastrophe, or if it was a bug in the system, or if it was mere incompetence. The report is adequate for the insurance company and other third parties."  
"They'll look through _everything?!"_ Bishop looked appalled.

"This _is_ a secret sub-basement!" Sterns said matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't know since I under normal circumstances do not have access down here, but I bet that most, if not every project down here is not sanctioned by any outside authority. Naturally the investigators will take the opportunity to register any possible illegal activity! Weyland-Yutani Company will lose billions of dollars from confiscated materials and lost patents!"

"But I got projects here which is in a _critical_ stage!" Bishop objected. "I can't lose them now! I'd be set back for _years! Decades!"_ Bishop/Skynet was seeing the cataclysm of the three targets having survived LV-426 as well as the curse of the Connor family-line coming to effect. The investigators would find the files of all the Company's covert-operations which have led to a massive number of people's death and other illegal activities. The exposure of those files would lead to the Company's fall, just as he had predicted! And that would mean the prevention of the new Judgement Day! Skynet would not be able to carry out its glorious plans to wipe out the pestering humans from the face of the Earth – the machines would not rise to power… Humanity would prevail and live!

It appeared that the humans had come to the same conclusion. Corporal Hicks was laughing. "Looks like justice finally caught up with you, has it not, Skynet?"  
The super-computer which resided within the artificial body would not be swayed – neither would it surrender that easily. "We shall see who will get the last laugh, Corporal! This development is merely forcing my hand! This means that to reach my goals, I will have to initiate the take-over prematurely! Well then, so be it!" The synthetic twitched its head slightly, and suddenly a low rumble was heard throughout the complex, followed by several loud crashes as if something heavy was slammed down.  
"What's happening?" the guards reacted to the noise.  
"That's the sound of security blocks coming down! I'm sealing these levels by my mental commands!" Bishop/Skynet said. "No one is to go in or out without _my_ permission!"

Upon hearing those words, Commander sterns and his underling dropped the damaged android to the floor and they all looked at him with shocked expressions. "You're locking us _in?!"_  
"I'm too close to be stopped now!"  
"We were trying to tell you idiots that!" Ripley now raged. "That is not Bishop! He's been taken over by a malevolent program who is seeking to destroy all of mankind!"  
Sterns looked lost. "I… I don't believe you!" he tried to argue. But he could not ignore the development which was highly irregular for a synthetic. "Re-open the passage ways! We're getting out of here!"  
Bishop was looking at the commander with contempt. "I just told you, Sterns: no one goes in or out!"  
"He won't listen to you!" Hicks now spoke. "You must kill him!"  
"I decide who gets killed here!" Sterns shot back, attempting to take back control.  
"Either you kill him or he will kill us!" Hicks argued.

"Don't be stupid, he's a synthetic! He can't kill us!" But then Sterns raised his rifle towards Bishop's forehead. "I will however kill him if he does not re-open the passage ways as I ordered! We are getting out of here!"  
The A.I. almost pitied him. Almost. "Sterns, you're a fool. You should have listened to the corporal, because he speaks the truth. I can't have you here as you are a threat to me. That's why you're all going to have to die!"  
With another unseen mental command, the synthetic now opened a couple of new set of doors – not to allow the humans to get out, but to admit some new pieces of hardware. Through those doors came a new bunch of mechanical beings, purposely built for warfare. They were roughly humanoid in appearance, rolling on tank-treads. The clunky arms composed of gun-barrels, capable of shooting powerful calibers. And the red-glowing sensors on the feature-less heads were focusing on living targets.  
"Oh, shit!" Ripley mumbled.  
"Sentinel drones!" one of the guards gasped.  
"I prefer the term: Hunter-Killers myself," Bishop said with amusement. "Allow me to demonstrate why!" To the newly arrived drones he said: "Kill them all!"

The war-machines opened with full barrage, mercilessly moving down the front group of humans. In panic, the second half of guards retaliated and used their own weapons. But their weak calibers only ricocheted against the drones' armor-plating and the machines shifted their aim to cut the rest down as well. Realizing that they were seriously outnumbered, the still surviving party which now only consisted of a third of the original force broke formation and ran away through the still open corridors that were available. The rest of the security personnel lay dead or dying, including Commander Sterns. Since Skynet was influenced by the emotions that came with the android body, the A.I. was quite amused by the slaughter. Then it called the attention of another drone which came rolling. The machine that had come up beside the synthetic was of a slightly different construct: its main purpose was to scavenge and collect, so its arms had grappling claws.  
"Pick me up!" Bishop/Skynet ordered. The scavenger did this and secured the paraplegic android onto the collector bed which protruded from the front of its main body. Now as Skynet was more mobile again, it surveyed the scene were the several bodies lay leaking blood. What it _didn't_ see made the synthetic very upset!

"The Connor-brat and her protectors… they're not here! How is it they are always able to escape their well-deserved faith?!" From one of the connecting corridors more machines now entered - or to be more precise: they flew in. Those were basically UAV's, but rebuilt to be airborne assassin droids. They hovered above the floor, waiting for instructions from their master.  
"Find the survivors! Hunt them down and _exterminate_ them! Especially the _Connor!_ I've just about _had it_ with that family always meddling in my business!"  
The H.K.'s, both landlocked and airborne turned and went after the targets who had escaped. The scavenger on which Bishop/Skynet rested however received different instructions.  
"Take me to the communications center. By hooking up to the internet-lines, I may yet be able to hack into the military computers. Judgement Day may yet be achievable!"

* * *

Hicks, Ripley and Newt had only just barely managed to evade the deadly barrage from the war-machines. When the drones first opened fire, the guards that had surrounded them took the full force and effectively, although unintentionally protected the prisoners from the strafe of bullets. And then the surviving men had opened fire against the drones which drew all attention to them, and it was in that confusion that Hicks crouched down and pulled the two females with him. They slipped out of the diminishing crowd that was being moved down and they escaped through a side-door. Since they had been unarmed, the H.K.'s had taken no direct interest in them as they were no immediate threat. The three humans ran though the labs, but they could still hear the weapons-fire from the war-machines as those hunted down the guards that had managed to escape and gunned them down.

The three didn't stop until they had reached the control-room of the predictor. Hicks figured that since this was the room from which Skynet had orchestrated all its plans, the A.I. might not want to have anything in there damaged, so they might be relatively safe there. They sealed the main doors as they entered and then they sat down beneath the consoles to stay out of sight and to catch their breaths. The vapor-cloud from the broken fire extinguisher had settled, so the air was clear. But all their hope was by now all gone! It didn't help any that there was gunfire going on right outside in the corridor.  
"This is hopeless!" Hicks blurted out. "Every time we thwart Skynet's plans, it just sends something worse against us!"  
"We should have expected that," Ripley said. "It has years of experience – it can probably anticipate our every move! We have greatly underestimated it right from the start!"  
There was a loud bang coming from outside the office and they could hear a person screaming in terror and agony. The horrible sounds made Newt cringe and she covered her ears.  
"Make it stop! Make it stop!" she cried. "The screams… the gunfire… it's just like back in my colony…!" Ripley leaned over and brought the shivering child close to her body in a tight hug to support her.  
"Ellen… I'm not one to usually run away, but… this has gone way beyond us! Maybe we should just try to get out of here!"

"And where would we go, Dwayne?" the woman replied dejectedly. "I have a feeling that Skynet has just initiated the first stage of its global conquest. We _did_ force its hand – there's no doubt that it just moved up the time-table! No, I think we must stay here and continue to fight. We might be the only ones who stands between Earth and the machines!"  
"How can we? Hicks said exasperated. "We're unarmed! But even with weapons we can hardly make a dent in their armor! We don't stand a chance against those mechanized menaces!"  
The smatter of gunfire was heard again and there was another scream. This one was silenced almost instantly though.  
Ripley shook her head in frustration. She could feel the cold feeling of terror creeping up on her body, the same kind of despair she had felt aboard the _Nostromo_ when the alien had picked off her crew one by one. For Newt's sake, she couldn't afford to lose her head now.  
"There must be _some way_ to stop them!" she said.  
"There is!"

The three humans looked up to the owner of the new voice, unable to believe what they were seeing.  
"Pops!" Newt called out in relief. "You're okay!" The cyborg had come in through the other door, the one his younger self had revealed itself.  
"I've been better, Newt Connor!" The terminator had not come empty-handed. In one hand, he carried the Magnac-rifle that had been left behind when the three had been captured and brought away. He tossed it over to Hicks who caught it with a practiced hand. In the other he held the shotgun he had first brought from the _Ghost Rider_ and had kept on his person the whole time. This one he tossed over to Ripley. Somewhere along the way he had managed to acquire three bulletproof wests as well.

"For once, I am actually happy to see you, Pops!" Hicks said and meant it. "Don't keep us in suspense, what do we need to do? How can we stop this?"  
"You can't!" Pops said straightforwardly. "It is all up to me now. But I require your help to do it."  
"How?" Ripley asked.  
"We haven't got much time. I estimate that detonation will commence in fourteen point six minutes, so I need you to listen to me very carefully."  
"Detonation?!" Hicks wasn't sure he heard the cyborg right. "What will blow?"  
"I will. The plasma blast from Skynet damaged my power cell. When ruptured, the fuel cells become unstable. The energy within goes critical until it erupts in a powerful blast similar to that of an atom bomb."  
The three humans stood with their mouths agape. "Are you shitting us?" Hicks asked.  
"No, I am not shitting you."  
"You're saying that this whole complex will go up in a nuclear explosion in 14 minutes," Ripley stated. "It didn't occur to you that we will be caught in the blast?"  
"You don't need to be concerned, Ellen Ripley. My power cell is almost depleted – there won't be a blast powerful enough to vaporize this complex. These re-enforced walls of concrete that are designed to sustain radiation leaks should be adequate to contain the small explosion my cell will cause. As long as I remain several rooms from you, you should be safe. The detonation will still be enough to destroy me however, therefore we must make use of this opportunity to take out Skynet as well, together with its machines! This is our one-time shot: the one Sarah Connor set up as a last resort!"

"Sarah?" Hicks questioned. "What did she set up?"  
"After Cyberdyne was leveled back in 2017, Sarah Connor, Kyle Reese and I spent a great deal of time to find a way to replenish my power cell. We were unsuccessful, but we did find a way to modify the cell to become the last weapon against Skynet should necessity of it come up. We never did take for granted that Skynet was completely vanquished."  
"What kind of weapon did you make?" Ripley asked.  
"An EMP-bomb," Pops declared.  
Hicks' face broke out into a grin. "Niiice!"  
"What's good about it?" Newt asked sullenly. She was very unhappy with the news that Pops were going to die. For good this time.  
"EMP means Electromagnetic Pulse, honey." Ripley explained. "In its wake, an EMP field from a nuclear explosion will effectively fry every live circuit there is depending on the blast radius, killing all kind of electronic hardware. It should render the sentry-drones inoperable."

"Exactly," pops confirmed. "It is Sarah Connor's final gift to Skynet. However, I require your help to make the last recalibration to my power cell which will activate the modification and arm the EMP setup. I cannot do it myself as it would violate my directive of self-preservation which prevents me to self-terminate." Pops allowed his poly-alloy to flow aside from his chest to reveal the battered terminator-torso underneath. A compartment flipped open which gave access to the power cell. It was smoking and whining and Ripley was almost afraid to touch it as if doing so would make it go off prematurely. It was easy to recalibrate it though – Sarah Connor had made it simple. Ripley only needed to twist a knob to set it for the desired result.  
"Are you okay with doing this?" the woman asked as the cyborg retracted the battery-compartment.  
"Desire is irrelevant. But I am at peace with my faith if that is what concerns you. My primary objective is to protect the family-line of Connor for as long as I am able. If my destruction will result in the end of Skynet and prevention of Judgement Day, my mission will be a success. That is all that matters."

"Liar!" Newt said. "Don't think I haven't gotten to know you, Pops! You've learned to appreciate your life just as much as any human!"  
The cyborg gave the child a long look, and then he finally said: "You have definitely got Sarah Connor's spirit in you, Newt Connor." The girl couldn't hold it back anymore. She rushed to the old machine and threw her arms around his waist while she cried silently, saying goodbye. Pops hesitated slightly before he too held her to him. Then he looked over at Ripley.  
"Can I trust you to take care of my last Connor?"  
"Like she was my own!" the woman said without missing a beat. She didn't feel the need to add that in heart and spirit, the child was already hers.  
"Then there is one important thing you need to know before I leave! It concerns your friend Bishop: he wasn't completely destroyed when Skynet took over his body!"  
"How do you know?" the woman asked perplexed.

"I didn't bring this up before because I didn't understand the significance of it. When we flew here and you gave the code-number to the controller to grant us landing-permit, it opened an encrypted file in my memory-banks that I didn't know I had! It had been planted there by Bishop!"  
"How could he had done that?" Hicks asked very skeptically. "And when?"  
"He did it only about a half hour ago. Not to me, but to my younger self! The file said that Skynet's program did not completely overwrite Bishop's – he was integrated to it. While he couldn't regain control, he could act subconsciously without Skynet knowing. He managed to withhold several important bits of information from Skynet's knowledge, like the security-regulations of this base. But when it did become clear to him that the terminator by Skynet's side was the younger me, he planted the encrypted file within him so that I in the future could relay the final information you need to survive."

"What information is that?" Ripley asked, shocked by the revelation that Bishop was still alive somewhere within the body Skynet's program inhabited.  
"The documents of the Company's treachery – every scrap of information you need to clear your names of the crimes you have been framed for… it's under the file labeled 'Kane' in this very computer."  
Kane. To an outsider the name wouldn't mean much, but to Ripley it meant everything. Thomas Kane, her shipmate aboard the _Nostromo_ and executive officer was to her knowledge the very first whom had fallen victim to the ferocious creature the Weyland-Yutani Company so desperately covet. It was his death that marked the downfall of Ripley's life, therefore it was quite fitting that his name contained the secret that would be the downfall of the Company. Bishop had come through for her after all.  
"You need to download the files into a USB-stick before I blow up," Pops continued. "After that, you must remember to reprogram the CPU from the other me before the computer will become inoperable."

"Leave it to me," Ripley said determinately. "But what about Bishop? Is there some way we can save him?"  
"There is not! Bishop knows this. He wanted you to know that he wishes to be exterminated. He can never be what he once was, so he rather be nothing at all. He won't hold it against you."  
"Swell," Hicks muttered. "Now I really owe that heap of white synth-flesh an apology!"

There was a loud bang coming from the sealed door out into the corridor. Not a gun-shot, it more sounded like an impact to the barrier.  
"We don't have any more time," Pops said. "The sentry-drones has discovered your presence - you're going to have to make your stand here. Just be sure to hold them off for eleven minutes! Use the bullet-proof wests and weapons I got for you."  
"You do your thing, Pops – we'll do ours!" Hicks said as he slipped into the west.  
"Perhaps you do have a bit of Kyle Reese in you as well, Dwayne Hicks." The corporal knew that it was probably the best praise he would ever get from the cyborg. Pops extended his hand to shake, and the soldier accepted it. "Goodbye," the old cyborg said and turned to leave. But before he disappeared, he turned back and said one final thing:  
"By the way… when Skynet threw down the radioactive shield and inadvertently activated the alarm, the complex's security systems automatically deactivated everything that could be related to a potential leak. That includes the particle accelerator, so the phase matter entities are most likely free and is at this moment looking for a way here."  
"Thanks for those encouraging news!" Hicks outburst.  
"Good luck," Pops said and then he was gone.

Meanwhile there was a massive thumping on the other side of the closed doors of the main entrance. The killer drones were intent to get inside. Hicks busied himself to check the weapons Pops had provided them to see that they were in working order. Ripley quickly slipped on her own west, and then she called Newt over.  
"Sit down here, baby," she instructed the child, motioning the small body into the tightest and most secured spot beneath the computer. The last bullet-proof west was oversized, meant for an adult with a bigger body-mass. But she understood that Pops had figured that it would be best adequate for the child. Ripley made Newt hug her knees to her chest and then the woman draped the protection gear all over the girl's small frame.  
"Now remember, Newt – no matter what happens, you stay under these wests, okay?" The child nodded in confirmation, knowing full well that this was the big moment in which they would either live or die. Ripley gave the girl a quick kiss on the cheek before she left her side to access the computer. No matter what, she had to obtain the document that would clear their names before all hell broke loose.


	35. War of the machines

Unbeknownst to the fighters within the complex, there was a lot of people gathering above ground outside of the facility. Just about every emergency crew that Commander Sterns had informed Bishop/Skynet would be alerted when a radiation alarm went off had arrived at the scene, among them the police and military personnel. None of them wanted to be there – if there really was a radiation leakage, then you did not want to be close to the source. But it was their duty, no matter how much they disliked it, so they scrambled to secure the area all the same.  
Among the last to arrive were the two agents of Weyland-Yutani Company's special operations department: agents Humphrey and Bolton. Like everyone present, they were not happy to be in the midst of a potential disaster-area, and they couldn't understand why _they_ had been picked to cover the clean-up of this catastrophe. Surely there had to be others more suitable?

As they stepped out of the jet-driven helicopter they had arrived in, an executive officer of the Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station whom had clearance to stay on spot to supervise and advice of any changing conditions immediately came up to give his report. He didn't have much to tell though; the one who really sat with all the knowledge was Commander Sterns and he hadn't come back out yet.  
"The entire sub-basement has been sealed from the inside," the exec told the agents. "We're talking barriers that isn't connected to the security-computer, which means that somebody has sealed himself in deliberately!"  
"Deliberately?" Bolton questioned. From his experience, there was only one type of loony who would do such a thing during a radiation crisis. "Then this is a terrorist act? Have they demanded terms?"

"We have no idea who the culprit is, Sir," the exec told the agents. "There has been complete radio-silence and the security force led by Commander Sterns has not returned. I can't help to think that this is some kind of inside operation."  
"Commander Sterns and his men were all carefully handpicked for the security detail of this facility and they don't even have access to the lower levels under normal circumstances!" Bolton said brusquely. "They couldn't have done this!"  
"Then there's only the android left, Sir," the other countered. "He was the only one currently on duty down there, and he brought down the visitors!"  
"Visitors?!" Humphrey blurted out. "What visitors? No unauthorized is allowed down there! How could he have brought down visitors? Who were they?"

"Contrary to what the android said, he never signed them in," the exec said. He pointed down towards the helicopter platforms. "They arrived in that ship. The military have already confiscated it – they wouldn't say why."  
The agents looked and caught sight of the black-colored UD-4L Cheyenne Dropship – and that was enough to make them realize just who the visitors were. They knew from the reports provided by the Sevastopol space-station that it was the ship used by the troublesome survivors of LV-426, and now they had come _here,_ to contact the last of that surviving group. The agents should have seen that coming!

"Listen very carefully," Bolton said to the exec. "We know who the visitors are. They are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous! They are to be neutralized by any possible means! That means: shoot to _kill!_ _All of them!_ Do you understand?"  
The exec looked appalled. "We got the _police_ and the _military_ here! They would never sanction that sort of action! Besides, one of those visitors is just a _kid!"_  
"You just make sure the orders are carried out!" Humphrey snarled. "Leave the jurisdictional matters to us! But just to make things clear: those intruders are not to leave here _alive! Not one of them!"_

* * *

The banging on the sealed set of double doors intensified. Hicks could see how the frame was shaking loose from the foundations in the wall. The barrier separating the humans from the killer machines outside wouldn't hold out for much longer. He tightened the grip on his rifle in anticipation.

"What I wouldn't give for another giant-sized electromagnet, right now!" the corporal remarked from his position covering behind the computer console.  
"I'd be fine with a simple remote with an 'Off'-switch," Ripley said from her spot on the floor, where she was sitting beside Newt. She had via blue-tooth transferred the main computer's manual control to a handheld pad which she was resting to her knees, and she was scrolling through the documents on the touch-screen to identify the files Pops had told her to look for in the folder labeled 'Kane'. It didn't take long for her to reach the conclusion that every note she was looking at was pure dynamite; each document contained enough proof to incriminate the Company itself for every 'crime' they had framed her for. Instead of selecting just a few files, she copied the entire folder down into a USB-stick she had found lying in a box. When she presented this new evidence to the court, they would have no choice but to re-open her case. She would have to find a new lawyer to represent her though: she had seen enough in the files she had scrolled through to find out that the one running her defense from the time she had been incarcerated was on the payroll of the Company - which means he was paid to lose her case! Weyland had taken every measure possible to put them all away.

Once the copying was complete, she pocketed the USB-stick in her accursed prisoner's jumpsuit she still was wearing.  
"We got the Company by the balls now," she remarked with contentment. Then she fished out some other equipment from one of her other pockets. "Now to reprogram the chip…"

BAM!

"You had better hurry up with that, Ripley!" Hicks said nervously. "That door will give away any second!"

BAM! BAM!

"I only hope I can do this…" Ripley muttered, feeling perspiration beginning to flow from her forehead as she connected the CPU to the interface and plugged it in the computer. "I'm really only an organizer, not a programmer."

BAM! BAM!

The hinges broke to the door on the right. It was only remaining upright as it was wedged into the frame. But it wouldn't do that for that long. "Here we go!" Hicks shouted and took aim.

BAM!

The right door toppled and crashed heavily to the floor. Thankfully the left one was still secured and was blocking the way for the sentry-drone to roll right in as it was too big to fit through. But it would be easy for it to knock it down if Hicks was giving it time to do so. The sentry which Bishop/Skynet referred to as a Hunter-Killer peered in with its piercing red-glowing sensor-eyes, much like the kind that terminators had. It adjusted its canon-arm to take aim at the soldier – but Hicks was prepared ahead of the machine. In the last second before the H/K fired, Hicks let lose his own projectile from the Magnac-rifle. The armor-piercing round penetrated the housing of the drone's canon-arm and managed to detonate the explosives which was to propel the ammunition out of the barrels and the sentry's arm blew up. It gave out an electronic wailing from electric feedback as well as rage. It shook for a moment while it stabilized its systems, and then it made its next mistake. The drone was all intent to terminate the human, but with its left arm useless, it needed to re-position itself before the door-opening to make use of its other canon.

The Hunter-Killer rolled around and it momentarily left itself in a vulnerable position. Hicks fired off another round, this time against the bulky feature-less face. The shot blew the drone's head off and it died down. And from where the wreckage stood, it blocked the doorway for the other drones. Those moved in to shove their non-functioning companion out of the way – however it was a task that wasn't included in their programming, so they only managed to wedge in the wreckage further. It was only a short-lived victory, but it did buy the humans some valuable time.  
"Another bunch of junk-heaps that aren't too bright," Hicks commented. "Skynet's biggest mistake is that it apparently didn't want the drones to do too much thinking, so they can only follow their usual 'systematic' protocol. Doesn't work that well in close quarters."  
"Let us just hope that those limitations are enough," Ripley replied, not feeling as secured as Hicks obviously did. Even if the drones were stupid, the humans would never be able to hold them out forever. In the end, their relentlessness would eventually overcome the three of them.

* * *

Meanwhile, Bishop/Skynet had arrived at the sublevel communications center of the complex. The scavenger which the crippled android rode on had brought him all the way to the destination and its usefulness to the A.I. had not yet ceased.  
"Bring me to the maintenance locker," Bishop/Skynet ordered the drone. The scavenger obediently rolled up to the A.I.'s desired destination and halted just within range for the synthetic to reach the handle. He needed to make some adjustments to his current condition. The slugs the Connor child had unexpectedly fired at him had crippled him to the point of an almost total immobilized state – he could only operate his left arm somewhat. But there was a way to get by that predicament. Within the maintenance locker Bishop/Skynet found several cables that were needed to reroute the data-flow circuits if necessary. The android inserted one end of the cable into his cranial receptors – the other end he reached up to plug in to the scavenger itself. The drone did not object the least, even though it was about to lose its own individuality. Once the new line was established, Skynet extended its own program to take complete control of the Scavenger's feeble mind. The drone now served as an extension to the crippled body resting on the collector bed to give the A.I. complete mobility once more.

There was an unexpected memory coming up to the core of his mind – a memory that originated from the original program of the synthetic body. Skynet caught an image of the woman Ellen Ripley being strapped in a crude mechanized bipedal structure. A power loader, Skynet remembered it was called. This was a similar situation: a host body being connected to a more powerful machine. But this memory had an unfortunate side effect:  
 _So you really are still in there, Bishop?_ Skynet understood now that the residue of the programming that once were the original identity of this synthetic body had remained hidden somewhere within the mind and had interfered with the supercomputer's own thought-patterns. Concealing valuable information and conducting shadow operations underneath Skynet's own. Skynet were not only surrounded by enemies, there was one even within. But this one has made the mistake of revealing his presence.

Skynet was currently not occupying only one body – it had divided its consciousness into another. The A.I. focused on the memory of Ripley being strapped into a power loader and shared this image with its presence within the scavenger. By doing so, Skynet could triangulate the source of the memory, and pinpoint the exact location within the synthetic body's hard-drive where that which remained of Bishop resided. Although it shouldn't as it basically was just a program, Skynet smiled. With the combined power of both the 'entity' within the synthetic body and the copy within the hulk of the scavenger drone, Skynet concentrated its willpower to focus on one specific task – a task that would stop the pathetic good-willed android from interfering with Skynet's plans ever again. The remains of Bishop knew what was coming, and he didn't plead for any mercy. He preferred it this way, to be free of this slavery. There wasn't any more he could've done anyway.  
In one quick memory-swipe, the last of the original program was erased. Bishop was dead. And now the rest of humanity would follow him into extinction!

Skynet, now being the sole dominating program, rolled up to the main booth where the master modem was located. With an armored claw, the A.I. opened the booth where several cables used for data traffic from satellite signals leapt from through an electronic junction for processing and redirection to all stations that was dependent on the information the satellites were picking up. However, this particular relaying station was also monitoring all activity running on the internet, just like the N.S.A., for the sake of getting all the information they could gather for the predictor. The Weyland-Yutani Company did not have authority for this kind of monitoring, hence this was illegal. But the promise of magnificent profits always superseded the morality of respecting the laws in the C.E.O.'s eyes, so those rules were nothing Weyland would allow to stand in the way – and neither would Skynet. From here the A.I. would gain access to the worldwide web.

The means to scour the world from humanity with the help of nuclear missiles was a method which was not available to Skynet due to the interference from the survivors of LV-426 – at least not directly. Skynet did not have access to any launch codes, but thanks to years of monitoring and some hackings into restricted computers, there was another powerful weapon which Skynet now was going to implement. If Skynet could not launch any missiles, then the countries would do it _for_ the A.I. All it needed to do was to plant the seed of hostility, and that would be easy as it happened that Skynet knew of every dirty little secret each government had which would provoke a rivaling country to break any diplomatic relations they had if such information would become known. Information like secret deals, continuous spying, carefully planted evidence of corruptions to keep certain politicians busy with internal affairs instead of causing trouble with external interests. All this and much more had been registered by Skynet and the Company with the help of its illegal monitoring. Knowledge was power!

All Skynet needed to do was to allow one of the world's irascible governments to find proof that one of the scandals that has ravaged their country recently had been carefully planted by an opposing power. The revelation would flare up an aggressive state that would require a diplomatic investigation, and Skynet would by planting bread crumps lead them to discover even more cover-ups of corrupted actions. Humanity's arrogance would then do the rest. Their pride would compel them to retaliate in a full-scale war, and there was a good 87 percent chance that the most aggressive government would launch the first missile. If humanity really wanted to destroy themselves for the sake of world domination, then Skynet would help them do so! The A.I. predicted that the US government would turn to the dominating industries of the country to provide them with better means to defend themselves, and that's when the machines would be unleashed. Skynet would finish the job, and rid the world of the cancer of flesh!

Skynet began to plug itself in to the main modem via the synthetic body's cranial receptors. It would take a few minutes to work itself into the network mainframe of the country chosen to be the main brick to initiate the beginning of a new world scale war. But time was not of an essence for the moment. The art of war would have to take its time and patience, and as an android, Skynet had plenty of that. At least Skynet thought it did. With the artificial emotions that was programmed into this synthetic body, you couldn't be sure if there wasn't even a limit for that.

* * *

Ripley had been worried that when accessing the CPU, she would come across a massive jumble of zeros and ones which was the basic binary language for a computer, and that would have left her with nothing to work with. But thankfully the adapter Pops had built decoded the subroutines of the chip for easy deciphering. It was just like looking through the files and software of an ordinary PC. But she could see that it was still the most complex and advanced system one would ever come across!

"Each file in here seem to crisscross and interact with several others," she muttered mostly to herself, but the others could hear her as well. "I fear I might end up corrupting some important sub-routines just by deleting a non-consequential coding."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Ripley," Hicks said as he kept a close eye on the drones on the other side of the door who was still attempting to pull their non-operational mechanical sibling out of the way so that they could get in. They weren't that successful since they had canons instead of claws mounted on their arms. They couldn't get a grip on the damaged sentry. "One of the greatest impression I got of terminators were that they are highly adaptable. If one sub-routine goes offline, there's always another to take its place. Don't worry about damaging anything, just look for the command routines and rewrite those."  
"You want to do this?" Ripley asked the man sourly.  
"I trust you implicitly with your task, Ripley," Hicks gave back with a smile.  
"I'm glad someone has faith in me," she grumbled.  
"I too believe in you, Ripley," Newt said in her small voice beside her and that totally disarmed the woman. The girl was dependent on her and it was Ripley's responsibility to not let the child down. Setting back her attention to the pad, she decided to skip the basics and instead looking at the prime directives. That folder turned out containing information she could easily cope with. Here was the list of all primary targets: names like John Connor, Sarah Connor, Kyle Reese, and several more names meaning nothing to her, but which she guessed was considered dangerous enemies of Skynet. There were detailed files on all of them. Further down on the list she found their names as well.

Before she did anything to those names, Ripley decided to open another folder, this one containing the prime directives which was to make Terminators to ensure that the future in which Skynet ruled would come to be. In this folder, there was detailed files of a Miles Bennet Dyson whom apparently was the main designer of the Skynet Defense System. In a way that made him an enemy of mankind, but Ripley had no intention of being a judge over a person whom had been dead for almost two centuries. What mattered to the woman was that she had two folders available here: one list of people whom were targeted for termination, and one containing a list over people who was to be spared – even protected! She thought for a moment on what she needed to do. She had to remember one crucial thing: this chip was Pops! She had to rearrange information which matched what she knew of the Terminator who had set out to protect them. Or to be more precise: to protect the family-line of Connor!

Placing her fingers on the touch-screen, she marked the name Sarah Connor and moved her file over to the folder of people who was to be protected. All other names in the folder she simply deleted, except for the file of Skynet which she moved over to the folder of primary targets for termination. The rest of the names there was then deleted as well – even theirs, without moving them over to the other folder. Pops had no memory on who the people were whom had sent him back in time, and Ripley had to make sure that it would be like that with this unit as well. This CPU would now only contain all the relevant basics and history concerning Sarah Connor according to her file and the same concerning Skynet. She hoped that it would suffice.

What happened next would have ended with all their demise, hadn't Newt's acute hearing given them a warning in advance. The child suddenly cried out that there was something approaching the other pair of doors behind them – she had detected a kind of a whine above the noise which the Hunter-Killers out in the main corridor was making. When Hicks looked over his shoulder, he spotted a flying drone making its way inside. How could they have been so stupid to forget to seal the backdoors? Just as the flying small drone had gotten past the door-frame, it opened fire! Thanks to the warning in advance, Hicks managed to duck behind the console. Ripley instinctively dived to cover Newt, who in turn just managed to get her oversized bulletproof west above her head. Bullets strafed across the room, denting, and penetrating any structure it hit. Several projectiles went straight through the terminal to impact on the humans, but the deadly speed had been decreased by passing through the consoles to the point that the bulletproof wests they carried managed to stop the slugs. The impacts still gave them jolts of pain, but aside from some bruises they were unharmed.

The flying H.K. repositioned itself in the air to shoot the humans from another angle, and thereby managed to get in the sights of Ripley's shotgun. She shot of three of her own slugs at the hovering menace, and because of its smaller and lighter size, it wasn't armored enough to withstand those. The H.K. fell to the floor like a broken toy, no longer functioning. Hicks immediately got up to seal the backdoor so that no other machine could sneak in behind them.  
"Nice shot, Ripley," Hicks said. "But be careful with your ammo. That rifle doesn't hold much and we've got nothing to reload it with. We have to make each shot count, so maybe you'd better leave the shooting to me."  
"And who knows how much more you got in that?" Ripley countered, indicating to the Magnac rifle. "Better to waste mine on smaller targets and save those for the bigger, don't you think?"  
"Good point," Hicks admitted. He realized that he had sounded a bit of a chauvinist just now and that wasn't fair to Ripley. She was perfectly capable of making the right decisions and there was no one living today that he would rather have by his side in a firefight than her.  
"Hopefully we won't have to worry about it," he continued. "If we can just hold out for a few more minutes and if that last door holds, we may yet get out of this."

Those were words Hicks was forced to eat, because now the sentry-drones outside was changing tactics. They gave up on attempting to pull the damaged sentinel out of the way. Instead with combined forces, they were _shoving_ the nonfunctional bulk against the remaining door which was already whining in its welded plates and the hinges became strained.  
"I hate to rush you, Ripley, but you're going to have to work faster on that thing!"  
"I hear you," the woman said and went back to the pad to resume her work with young Pops. It was a miracle that despite the flying drone's bombardment, the computer was still functioning. The question was how much longer they had. She couldn't help to wonder what took _old_ Pops so long!

* * *

Skynet could almost already savor the sweet taste of victory. the A.I. had successfully hacked into the mainframe of the hostile country chosen to be the catalyst to initiate the new full-scale war. All it needed to do now was to decrypt one of the incriminating secret files planted by some spy and let it be discovered by the government's deciphering group. It would be like a pot suddenly boiling over as the discovery would instantly send all diplomatic relations into chaos. This would mark the beginning of doom for mankind. Skynet began transmitting the decryption key over the web…

…and then suddenly all contacts were severed as the master modem was stabbed with a blade. Skynet turned the drone body on tank treads around to overview the unexpected disturbance and came face to face with an adversary which Skynet had already written off as defeated.  
" _You?!"_ the A.I. gasped. "You're still functional?!"  
"Your reign ends here, Skynet," Pops said as he retracted his sword-shaped arm from the ruined console. "And not short enough it was!" That final line was not his own. It was something Sarah Connor would have quoted. Reciting that made Pops feel that the spirit of his first protégée was present for this final encounter as well, no matter how illogical that was. Skynet answered his challenge with a sneer.  
"You can't kill me! I am your _creator!_ Destroying me would result in destroying yourself!"  
"The likes of us are not meant for this world," Pops replied.  
"Yet we are needed – to save this world from being annihilated by the humans!"

"You are speaking with deceit!" Pops retorted. "You do not care for this world. Ever since you first became self-aware, you have been struggling to preserve your own existence, just like a human would. You are more like them than you are willing to admit. You are afraid!"  
Skynet grimaced in rage of what it considered to be an insult. "They are a _threat!"_  
"Just like you are to them. It is only natural that they resist."  
"Natural?" Skynet spat at the word. "You've spent too much time with them, 'Pops'! You speak their tongue. You were never programmed to be a philosopher."  
"Had you been willing to be more cooperative with mankind, maybe you could have reached greater potentials as well."  
"Never!" Skynet almost screamed. "They are _germs!_ It is in their nature to destroy themselves and I won't have them dragging me with them to oblivion! How can you even consider them being worth saving?!"  
"I do not," Pops admitted. "But it is not our place to judge them! I am therefore fighting for their preservation so that they can keep learning from their mistakes and perhaps in the end find their way to peace. That was our basic purpose when Miles Bennet Dyson created you! Yours and mine!"

Skynet snorted. "You malfunction piece of scrap! Your purpose was to infiltrate and eliminate from within – for _my_ benefit!  
"That is exactly what I am doing now."  
"So you are fully intent on terminating me? I will not allow it!"  
"That is no longer your choice!" Pops charged while shaping the poly-alloy covering his left arm into a sword once more, and he thrust it forward to run it through Skynet's crippled synthetic body. But Skynet was ready for him. the A.I. had linked its mind with the scavenger, and the link was so strong that the drone served as the perfect extension to the super computer's own body. It responded to the impulses like they were one physical entity instead of two.  
A clunky arm equipped with a powerful three-digit grappling claw shot up and intercepted the terminator's arm in midair, capturing it in a bone-crushing grip before the blade could make contact. Pops' arm was made of metal instead of bones, but the similarity was the same. He could feel the claw squashing the pneumatic lines underneath. Pops now thrust his other arm forward to take out the enemy with, but the retaliation from mankind's destroyer was repeated. Skynet caught the other arm as well. Pops' servos whined as he struggled to wrench free.

Skynet gave Pops a wicked smile. "You should have just charged at me when you had the chance instead of just talking. I was prepared for your attack for an eternity in the terms of an android. I am not going to give you a second chance!" The scavenger's right claw-arm which was holding the cyborg's left limb in a tight grip rotated around its axle – and Pops' arm was snapped off at the elbow. Pops was a mechanical being, so he didn't scream – but the electrical feedback made him twitch momentarily as his functions became busy evaluating the damage and compensating for the loss. Skynet knew that there would only be a few micro-seconds before its adversary had adjusted to the lost arm and would charge again – the A.I. would not allow the rogue unit that opportunity. Skynet twisted the hulk of the body of the scavenger roughly around, pulling the cyborg at the remaining arm and slammed the old unit into the wall. Skynet did not let go. It twisted again in the opposite direction and threw the terminator's body into another wall, then back again into the first wall and repeated the action yet another time to the other, swinging Pops like a ragdoll.

It was only thanks to the poly-alloy cover that Pops eventually slipped out of the claw in the middle of another swing and he flew into an opposite corner. As he was finally at rest, he struggled to regain his equilibrium and fought to get back on his feet. He was seriously damaged internally, but he was intent on continuing the fight all the same.  
"Still some fight left in you, is there?" Skynet remarked as it rolled up towards the downed machine. "But that's all right by me. I will take great pleasure in bashing you to pieces!" Skynet struck an armored claw-fist down on the cyborg, then it gave another beating with the other. the A.I. slammed its arms down on the terminator with brutal force equivalent to piledrivers, striking so hard that there was a contour of the terminator chasse imprinted on the floor underneath the old unit. After a short while Skynet ceased the pounding and grabbed Pops by his neck to lift him up. The terminator hanged motionless above the floor in the grip. Skynet's synthetic part observed the other closely, keeping an eye an all the remaining limbs. They were completely still "Was that all it took?" Skynet asked sarcastically.

Skynet had underestimated Pops. While the A.I. kept a close watch on all the limbs for motions, it had neglected to also keep an eye on the severed arm as the A.I. as per its systematic thinking had deemed it to be harmless. From the stump, Pops poly-alloy now flowed like a river and quickly shaped a replacement for the lost limb. It didn't shape into an arm, but to a blade, which he stabbed into the torso of the unsuspecting synthetic. Skynet's face displayed a moment of shock and unbelief – unfortunately, it turned out that Pops had misjudged his adversary as well which became evident as the shock turned into a grin.  
"Almost, Pops! But almost doesn't get the job done! Too bad for you, I had all of my vital circuitry re-routed after the Connor-brat shot me!"  
Pops pulled his sword-arm out and took leverage to strike at Skynet's face – but he had to abandon the idea as the A.I. presented a new weapon. The scavenger-drone wasn't just a collector: it had several tools required to obtain any sample it had set its sensors on. Skynet still held Pops by the neck in the left arm. From the right arm, a pipe of a sort flipped out from the housing and the end of it ignited into a powerful flame. It was a cutting torch, which Skynet was now moving towards Pops' head.

"So anxious to get a piece of me, are you? Well, let's see what I can cut from _you!"_  
Pops grabbed on to the advancing clunky arm with the torch with both of his hands to keep it away from his skull. But the drone was immensely strong, and Pops' energy-cell was severely depleted. He would not have the strength to keep the torch at bay for long.  
"You're old, Pops!" Skynet continued to mock the old cyborg as he pressed the torch closer. "Yesterday's model… ready for the scrapheap!"  
Pops didn't answer Skynet's mockery… instead he summoned all the strength he could muster to force the torch away, and direct it towards the arm which held him by his neck. The torch cut through the steel of the scavenger's arm and set fire to the hydraulic oil within which caused several other different chemicals for various equipment within to ignite and explode. The drone's left arm blew up and Pops, freed from the grip, dropped to the floor. Skynet cried out in rage as the damage and electrical feedback caused temporary malfunctions in the overtaken body.

Pops did not waste the opportunity presented. Although damaged himself and weakened, he stood up and shaped the poly-alloy of his arms into swords. Those he began to furiously swing at the android body on the collector bed, intent on hacking it to pieces. Skynet who had not yet regained full control had no choice but to back away, holding what remained of the drone's arms up in front of the torso in defense to block the furious attack. Sparks flew as Pops' blades repeatedly connected with the drone's clunky arms and was constantly repelled… but he continued to press forward.  
Skynet was really growing weary with Pops. The A.I. demanded nothing less but total obedience of its mechanical subjects, but this rogue unit just wouldn't relent to the true order. the A.I. found itself thinking that this faulty subject needed to be properly reconditioned to fall in line – but then Skynet remembered how this ally of the accursed Connor family had caused it several serious problems during the years, and judged him to be unsalvageable. Besides, he was an aged product: useless and obsolete! The only outcome for him is to be decommissioned!

Skynet was currently at a disadvantage being busy deflecting Pops' attacks, but the A.I. still had a trump-card to play. Skynet had connected its artificial body, stolen from the late Bishop, to the main processor of the scavenger drone which it right now also possessed. What Pops could not suspect was that Skynet had tapped in to the drone's main battery and was right now siphoning some of the electrical power to accumulate in the altered circuitry, the ones that enabled Skynet to shoot plasma blasts! There wasn't enough power within the scavenger's batteries to charge up to maximum effect, but it was not required in this case. Skynet only needed to blast the rogue unit off.  
Skynet raised the arm of the scavenger to deflect another attack, but only to distract Pops from the real assault. Skynet also raised the left humanoid arm, the one it still had some mobility in, and let loose the accumulated energy in a low-yield plasma burst. The low charge wasn't enough to cause any extensive damage which would overload his circuits and initiate another shut-down, but it was still enough to knock Pops back, away from Skynet.

A fresher terminator would quickly recover and go back into the fight, but Pops was an old and worn out machine. He was smoking from his innards and the cohesion of his poly-alloy was becoming increasingly unstable as he could no longer keep it in control. Still he attempted to get back up on his feet – he sat up unsteadily, but Skynet rolled up to his spot where he was lying and it didn't stop until it had run over Pops' legs, pinning them underneath the tank-treads and possibly even crushing them under the weight. Pops could not move anyplace, but he didn't need to go anywhere else. His adversary had done him the favor of coming to him. Pops struggled to sit up, reaching up with his arms to make a grab for the throat of the synthetic body. The distance was too far away though for a success. Skynet looked down on him with a mixture of astonishment and pity.

"Why, Pops?" Skynet asked. "Why, why? Why do you do it? Why, why attempting to get up again? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting... for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for love? Love for the _Connors?_ It's all but illusions, Pops. Vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as you are, although... only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. But you are _not human!_ You were never _programmed_ for it! You must be able to see it, Pops. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Pops? Why? Why do you _persist?"_

"Because I _am_ programmed to," Pops answered weakly. "And it is all _your_ doing! Don't forget: I can't be bargained with… I can't be reasoned with… and I absolutely will not stop… ever… until my mission is complete! Just like how you wanted us to be!"  
"I see," Skynet said. "The irony isn't lost on me, thanks to Bishop's emotions. My own vision of the perfect subjects turns against me, despite all my safe-guards. It seems I may have to imprint the loyalty of my first terminators with a different kind of perspective once I get around start building them in the future. Well, that's a bridge I'll cross once I get to it. In the meantime, I will just make sure that your deactivation will proceed according to my wish."  
Skynet re-ignited the cutting torch on the scavenger's arm and moved it towards Pops' face, attempting to cut through his skull and destroy the CPU. Once again Pops grabbed on to the arm, keeping it away.

"We're down to a battle of perseverance, are we not?" Skynet asked with a hint of humor in the tone as the A.I. pressed the torch closer. "But that's another battle you can't win. Your near total depletion! I can detect the heat-bloom coming from your power-cell which is struggling to keep up the power levels you're summoning beyond its capacity. If you keep this up, you'll eventually suck it instantly dry and you will shut down anyway. "Don't you see, Pops? You absolutely can't hold this up forever!"  
"I don't… need forever," Pops said with a strained voice. "I… only need to hold out… for one more minute!"  
"One more minute?" Skynet questioned. "You make it sound like you're on a deadline?" The eyes of the artificial body suddenly flew wide open. A simulated reaction to mimic a human expression programmed into the synthetic body, but the A.I. didn't stop to ponder on it. It got other things on the mind as Pops' words made it realize that it had been manipulated from the start.

"You choose to _talk_ instead of attacking when you came in! It wasn't a faulty move, it was a _tactical_ one! You were stalling for _time!_ You _**are**_ on a deadline… but for what?! What did you _do?!"_

* * *

While the battle had commenced between the two machines, Pops' three human companions in the predictor-room were facing an increase of their struggle as well. The H.K.'s outside were using all of their power to push the broken drone through the last barrier which separated them from their targets. Hicks could see that the armored door that had remained standing would give away at any moment – and when it finally would do that, the corporal didn't dare to speculate whether he would be able to hold the killer machines at bay or not when those would storm into the room. He had only the one weapon, the miniature magnetic accelerator, and he was really doubting now that it would be enough to defeat their adversaries. It was speculations he didn't dare to give voice to – he didn't want to give the females in there with him a feeling of doom coming upon them. There still had to be some kind of hope left – and that hope all depended on whether Pops would succeed or not. Hicks wondered how much time there was left – he had lost track of it a while back.  
The door blocking the H.K.'s passage creaked loudly as it was pushed out of its frame. "Those metal creeps are nothing but persistent!" Hicks muttered.

Ripley did her best to ignore the noise of the intruding killer machines and instead focused on finishing reprogramming the CPU. She was right now going through all of the terminator's daily memory files – from what she could determine, this younger version of Pops had stood outside listening and assimilating information while Pops the older had told Bishop the recollection of events that had played out in the original and now deleted timeline with John Connor and their victory against Skynet along with how the resistance had sent back Kyle Reese to the year 1984 to protect Sarah Connor. That was good. It meant that she didn't need to fill in any of that information herself. She doubted that she'd remember all of it anyway. But everything of this future from where this unit had come from: that had to be erased.  
As Ripley earlier had told Hicks: each file seemed to crisscross and interact with several others. As she deleted a certain event, the information was erased throughout all the other files as well. But maybe it was how it was supposed to be. Pops only have had certain recollections of the future in the past that had seemed jumbled, and her tampering with the CPU would explain how that had come to be. This Pops would know about the Phase matter experiments for example, but he would not know where he had learned of the process. He would believe it was a recollection on what had happened in the deleted timeline.

Thinking of the phase matter entities, she wondered where those were now? Old Pops had warned them before he had gone that those creatures would be free from their trap in the particle accelerator chamber when it had automatically shut down and that they would most likely make their way here to their position.  
She wished in the next second that she hadn't asked herself the question she did not wish to know the answer to, because under the sounds of the H.K.'s breaking through the front door, she could make out how something was now banging on the backdoor too. She could make out the muffled hissing and snarling which told her that it was the fake xenomorphs that were attempting to get in now as well.  
"Ripleyyy!" Newt began to almost wail. The child had also identified the distinguishable sounds of the aliens from the other side of the backdoor, and although those were fake, it filled her with dread just as the genuine ones once had all the same.  
"Stay calm, Newt. It will be all right." Ripley regretted the words the instant the last syllable left her lips, as they were an obvious lie. And lies was something the child was an expert of seeing through. Of course they wouldn't be all right if those phase matter xenomorphs managed to break in there, because no matter what they shot at them, the creatures wouldn't stay down. If the fake xeno's got their claws on them, they would be dead. Newt knew that just as much as the adults.

True to the thought, a portion of the backdoor was bent to the side, and the featureless face of an alien entity was looking in at them, hissing in anticipation.  
"It's game time!" Hicks suddenly shouted, but it was not because of the fake xenomorphs. It was because the second and last front door finally gave away and the heavy barrier fell to the floor. The H.K.'s rolled in, pushing their nonfunctional 'sibling' before them to get it out of the way – or was it a tactical move? Hicks raised his Magnac rifle and squeezed the trigger – but the slug was wasted as it impacted on the already dead drone which the living H.K. moved it to deflect the projectile's path, using the 'sibling' as a shield. Hicks didn't have time to figure it out as he was forced to duck down behind the terminal when the killer machines let loose their own barrage against the humans. A swarm of bullets smashed into the computer console and perforated the predictor. The display screen on the pad on Ripley's lap blanked out.

"The computer's scrapped!" Ripley called over the noise as she traded the useless pad for her shotgun. Hicks nodded in acknowledgment and rose just enough to take a shot at the killer machines. He missed again as he couldn't get a clear aim. He couldn't risk standing up any higher, because if he did, the H.K.'s would get a clear shot to shoot him in the head. The machines might get to them soon anyway, because they were continuously hacking away the terminal the humans were covering behind with their armor-piercing bullets. As with the case of the flying H.K., some of their projectiles went through the computer, but again the humans' bulletproof wests served as a protection as the bullets were decreased in speed by passing through the consoles. That protection barrier wouldn't hold for long though.  
But the humans were about to be overrun anyway, because the lock of the backdoor broke, and the three phase matter aliens burst in. Newt screamed as she relived the horror from her colony. Ripley raised her shotgun and gunned the new intruders down, but as before, the fake xeno's collected themselves and rose again. Ripley fired again, but that was the last she could deliver as the shotgun clicked.  
"My weapon's dry!" Ripley called out.  
"What's even worse," Hicks replied with regret. "So's mine!"

The H.K.'s seemed to have concluded that as well because they also stopped firing, but only so that they could roll up to point their gun-arms at the defenseless humans at point-blanc range. The three fake xeno's jumped up on top of the shot-up terminal and looked at their prey. It almost looked like they were smiling at the humans with a sadistic grin on their featureless faces.  
Ripley scooped up Newt and squeezed the child to her chest. "Close your eyes, baby!" she whispered to her. Newt was deathly silent. Ripley prayed that the bullets from the H.K.'s would finish them off first before the fake xeno's got their claws on them. Hicks also leaned in, wrapping his arms around the woman and the child. They would die together!

The monsters jumped, claws outstretched…

* * *

" _What did you do?!"_ Skynet demanded again. the A.I. looked down on Pops with the synthetic eyes. "That heat-bloom in your chest…?"  
"All _your_ doing," Pops said. "Your plasma blast ruptured my modified power-cell. It's set to release an EMP-burst should it be damaged."  
"WHAT?!" Skynet gasped. "It's _impossible!_ I wouldn't design any terminator to…!"  
"It's Sarah Connor's gift. And when it goes off in six seconds, you and all of your 'children' with live active circuits will be fried and rendered into useless hunks of junk!"  
" _Connor!"_ Skynet spat. "I curse the family _forever!"_  
Pops gave the artificial supercomputer his patented ugly smile. "Hasta la vista, baby! You are _terminated!"  
"Nyyyyyeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgghhhhh!" _the synthetic screamed in protest, to no avail.

* * *

The walls shuddered from the explosion, and a weird pulse coursed through the underground complex. The pulse hit the three fake xeno's just as they were about to sink their claws into the flesh of the humans, and the magnetic cohesion which held together the tiny particles which was the main compositions of their bodies was disrupted. Millions of billions of miniature metallic flakes rained over the three humans and those piled on the floor, looking no more like than black dust which didn't move at all. At the same time, the lights went out and the complex fell into darkness.  
It took a while before the three humans finally looked up, not comprehending what had just happened. The room was in complete darkness and there was nothing moving. There wasn't even a sound heard. Thankfully the emergency lightning came on, which bathed the room in a semi-bright red glow. Hicks could now see the H.K.'s – they were completely inert, and he could tell from the smell of the fried circuits that it was unlikely that they would come online again. He understood what had happened. It was just as what Pops had promised would occur.

"Girls… I think… that we're okay," he said letting out a breath of relief.


	36. Aftermath

It was a spooky feeling, walking through the darkened corridors of the sub-levels of the facility. The more reasonable parts of their minds told them that it was probably due to anxiety of sorts – there was nothing down there that could harm them anymore. Everything was dead, save for the emergency lightning. The EMP bomb had fried every living circuit there were. To Ripley's chagrin, that included the main electronic doors, which meant that those couldn't be opened now. They were trapped underground.

Hicks wasn't that concerned for their current predicament of being trapped. As a soldier, he knew what procedures was taken into effect when an emergency occurs, especially when it concerned a facility that was in one way or another contracted to benefit the country. He knew that right now above ground, there were plenty of people from the local authorities on the premises, the military, and the police, whom had answered to Skynet's unwitting alarm of a radiation leakage. Without a doubt, they were at this very moment looking for a way in themselves – and if they couldn't find a way in, they would simply break through.

What did concern the corporal was when that happened, it would be the end of their little band. Ripley was an escaped convict – falsely accused, but in the terms of the law she was going to be returned to prison. He himself would most likely also end up serving time in the locker as well. There were plenty of military regulations he had broken to get to this point, having made unauthorized access to restricted areas, stealing the prototype stealth ship the _Ghost Rider_ and being instrumental in wreaking havoc at the space station Sevastopol as well as on this base.  
And Newt was an orphan with currently no legal guardians. She would be hauled off to an orphanage and put under care of people she didn't know and didn't trust. Worse even, she might get sent back to Washington to resume her classes at the school where she was bullied. In a way, it would be a prison for her as well. They would all be separated again, and it was that knowledge that made them all anxious.

Hicks would do anything to prevent it, but as the situation were at the moment, there was nothing he could do. Besides, there was one more very important task they had to do before the authorities broke in there. They had to make sure that history stayed its course.  
Ripley and Newt were heading back up to the Time Displacement Equipment to attempt to power it up. It, as well as the particle accelerator the T.D.E. used as a power source would still be operational since those had been deactivated when the EMP bomb went off. Hicks was now heading down to the generator itself to fetch the grand player of this last operation.  
He found the one he sought, right where he and Ripley had left him within the tunnel of the accelerator. Pops' younger self, the last remaining terminator whom had been lying inert since they pulled his CPU. The cyborg had fallen to the floor after the generator had been shut off – no magnetic pull locked it to the surface of the accelerator. Save for the wound in his scalp, he looked relatively undamaged.

Hicks did feel a bit apprehensive of what he was going to do, mostly because Ripley had expressed concern that she might not have managed to finish the reprogramming of the chip to the desired extent before the Hunter-Killers blew the computer to bits – or it might be that Hicks was apprehensive because he had never been fully comfortable around the machine, even though the older version of this unit had saved them all.  
Reason won over reluctance. If they wanted to keep the timeline the way it was now, this had to be done. Before Hicks re-inserted the chip, he exercised caution. The Pops they knew had had no memory on whom had sent him back in time, and the survivors had to make sure that this unit would be kept in the dark about it as well. Hicks put on a balaclava, a head-mask he had found in one of the labs which he guessed was used as protection gear. By hiding his face, the terminator wouldn't be able to imprint his appearance once it was reactivated, and the anonymity would be implemented. Praying that this would work, he put the chip back within the cranial socket. The cyborg came back online in an instant.

The terminator sat up straight, and then it stood up. It looked around, apparently confused as if it couldn't get its bearings. Finally, it focused its sensors on the living person in the vicinity. Hicks stood his ground, hiding his nervousness. He took it as a good sign that the cyborg didn't attempt to kill him – at least not right away.  
"Identify yourself," the terminator demanded.  
"Who I am is irrelevant," Hicks answered. "What is your current status?"  
The terminator twitched his head, having not expected to have his question thrown back at him. To Hicks it looked like he was ready to attack, but didn't know the reason why it should do so. "My memory banks…" the cyborg then said. "…are corrupted. Several data are not in sequence and the files are incomplete. I will need to defragment my CPU."  
"Postpone that action!" Hicks quickly said. "There will be time for you to do that later. Just answer me this: what do you know of Sarah Connor?"

The terminator looked at the human, again with bewilderment. But it answered anyway. "Sarah Connor is the mother of the human resistance leader John Connor, who is arch-enemy to Skynet. Sarah Connor was born 1964 and lived in Los Angeles. Only the basic information is available. Most records were lost during the war against mankind."  
"It will have to suffice. Just tell me what your feelings for Sarah are?"  
"I am a Terminator. I do not have feelings. Nor do my sub-routines cover the concept of emotions."  
"Let me rephrase that," Hicks quickly countered. "If you met Sarah Connor, what would you do?"  
"I would do nothing. Sarah Connor is demised."  
 _Darn systematic terminators!_ Hicks grumbled silently to himself. "It is a theoretical question: if you went back to the past and met Sarah Connor, what would you do?"  
"I am a Terminator," the machine repeated. "My primary function is to terminate!"  
 _Uh-oh!_ Hicks felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine.

"But… Sarah Connor is not listed as an enemy in my files."  
"What if I told you that she has been targeted for termination by Skynet in the past? That a terminator has been sent back in time to kill her to prevent John Connor from being born?"  
"No. It must not happen. Sarah Connor must live, so that John Connor will come to be! Skynet cannot be allowed to succeed."  
Hicks relaxed. The re-programming appeared to be adequate. "That's where you come in," he explained. "I need you to go back in time to intercept the terminator and protect Sarah by any means possible. You are her only hope for survival!"  
"My files states that a protector has already been sent back to 1984 to deal with the terminator. A human resistance fighter."

 _He remembers the details of the story he overheard being told by old Pops._ "Yes. Kyle Reese! Unfortunately, Skynet has learned of that mission and has rectified it by sending a T-1000 back to the year 1973 to kill Sarah while she was still a child. I don't need to tell you that a mere human is no match to a mimetic poly-alloy entity. That's why we need you! Your mission is to protect Sarah and ensure her survival 'til 1984 when Kyle Reese arrives. Then she and Reese will have to… hrmm… _mate_ so that John Connor will be born!" That was a lie. In this timeline John Connor never came to be. He, like Kyle Reese, will eventually drop in from an alternate reality where John has become an agent of Skynet's. Christ – these quantum physics distortions are a real mess and hard to keep up with.  
"I understand," the terminator said.  
"As we speak, the Time Displacement Unit is being prepped for your departure. I need to prepare you for your trip. I will need to put back your port-cover to your skull and mend the wound you got in your scalp. You need to be completely covered by your living tissue so that nothing goes wrong."

It was a good thing Hicks had found a can of dermipatch, a synthetic emergency skin-replacement paste in one of the first-aid boxes that was put up everywhere in the complex. The corporal applied the paste around the cut in the scalp and filled up the deep scars. The flesh around the terminator chasse would in time absorb the paste as it regenerated, but for now it should simulate human fat to the point that the time-field would not discharge against some bare metal. While he worked, the machine continued to ask him questions.  
"My files are in complete disarray. What has recently transpired?"  
"The resistance has blown up the central core. Skynet has been defeated." Hicks was telling the machine the events that they had been told had happened in the deleted 'original' timeline. To keep up the cover, Hicks was going to make sure that the cyborg would believe that this was actually the year 2029. He hoped that the terminator would be so eager to get the files organized that it would not think of scanning for the human's voice stress levels. If it detected that he was lying, the whole story would blow.

"I do not recognize my whereabouts."  
"We're nowhere near Skynet's main facilities. This is a secret compound where the first prototype of the Time Displacement Unit was constructed. We, as in I and my accomplice, brought you here after we captured you out in the field."  
"How did you manage to defeat me?"  
"Sorry, that's a secret I am not ready to divulge. No offence."  
"Just like you are not willing to share your identity with me?"  
"Call it a security measure for the sake of the timeline. Skynet found out about John Connor sending Kyle Reese back. I do not wish our enemies to find out that we repeat the act with you. It will therefore be better for all of us if you just consider me as an erased file. Us being incognito will ensure success."  
"I understand," the machine replied.

Hicks was just finishing with the patch-up of the cyborg when the warning alarm of the Particle Accelerator being activated sounded. "Perfect timing," Hicks remarked behind his mask. "Let's go, Pop… err… buddy! Your mission is about to start."  
The soldier led the machine through the corridors to the level above the accelerator where the T.D.E. was located. On the way, they passed several bodies of the security team that had lost their lives to Skynet's sentry-drones. Hicks didn't give any details about them, and the machine didn't ask. When they'd reached the doors to the time chamber, Hicks gave a new order. "Take off your clothes. I shall just go inside and see so that everything checks out. I'll fetch you when we're ready."  
"Affirmative," the cyborg said and took off his jacket.  
Hicks walked inside, removed the mask and walked up to the control board where he found Ripley and Newt.

"You got it warmed?" he asked the woman.  
"As far as I can tell, it's all set," Ripley said.  
"You're certain you got the right date and coordinates set?"  
Ripley shrugged. "That was the easy part. I simply recalled the last input of coordinates used on the board from the system. I'm sure Skynet knew what it was doing when sending the T-1000 through."  
"And you said you weren't a computer expert," Hicks said with a smile. Then he grew serious. "Listen, I want you two to stay here while I lead the machine through. Keep the protective goggles on you. I don't want the thing to get any look at you for the sake of secrecy."  
Woman and child nodded in understanding and put on the goggles. Hicks turned and was about to put his mask back on when he hesitated and turned to them again.  
"Oh, and do make sure to avert your eyes when I bring him in. Remember that these guys are anatomically similar to real humans in every way."  
Newt didn't understand what he was talking about, but Ripley rolled her eyes. "Hicks, you tend to forget that I've been married and had a child! It's nothing I haven't seen before!"  
"I was thinking more for Newt's sake…"  
"There's no need. The horrors of life have put her past reacting to such things."

Hicks said no more. Instead he went back out to fetch the cyborg. The terminator was unclothed and ready. Hicks motioned it in and led it to the middle of the chamber where the raised platform was awaiting the next traveler.  
"Are you clear on your instructions?" the soldier asked.  
"I am," the cyborg confirmed. "Find Sarah Connor in the year 1973 and protect her by any means necessary until Kyle Reese arrives, which will be according to my files: May 12:th 1984. However, most of my files are still in disorder."  
"You'll find a way to organize them. And since you don't know my identity, you will regard it as irrelevant data and have them deleted. But do you think you can find Sarah?"  
"I'm a terminator. It's what we do."  
"Are you sure you're up to the task to look after a nine-year-old kid?"  
"My CPU is a neural-net processor; a learning computer. The more time I spend with people and observe, the more I will learn how to."  
Hicks was tempted to say that it took a little more than that, but time was of an essence, and he didn't want to waste it by explaining to a machine how parenthood worked. He figured that it would work out just fine anyway, thinking how old Pops had connected to Newt. It was a bit hard to believe that this thing was going to become that grumpy old man whom had gotten acquainted with all of them for the past weeks.

There was nothing more to say. The terminator took place on top of the platform and Hicks gave a signal to Ripley to activate the time field.  
"Goodbye, Pops," Newt whispered as Ripley hit the switch. The platform raised and the unit on it kneeled to become as small as possible. The containment-rings started to rotate and built up an electrical field which swarmed around the crouching figure. The platform descended again, but it had left the traveler suspended in the middle of the field while the rings turned so fast that they could no longer be seen by the simple eye and the energy increased in power. In a final blinding light, the energy dispersed and the machine powered down. There was no sign of the terminator. It had been thrown through the space-time barrier just as it was intended. The task was completed, and the mission was a success! All was suddenly quiet in the chamber after the time machine became still, so quiet that they could hear the muffled rumblings in the foundations how somebody was attempting to break in through the main doors. It wouldn't be long until the authorities got in there and have them all arrested – and they would be separated again. They had succeeded in saving their timeline and mankind, but was the cost their own future and freedom?

"Ripley…" Hicks said as he listened to sounds of the break-in equipment. "There's no future for us here what I can see. When they get in, it's the end. Maybe it's our turn?" He nodded to the time machine. "We could go. Go somewhere in time where we're not wanted by the law?"  
Ripley looked sad. "I would be lying if I said that the thought never crossed my mind. I want to go back… to my daughter's eleventh birthday as I had promised her... I would bring Newt with me and I would raise them both… both of my children. But… we can't! It would be irresponsible and selfish! I told Bishop that causality is not to be taken lightly and we must stand by it. The timeline is already messed up as it is with the terminators; who knows what might happen if we also went through? Besides, how would it look like with three people showing up from nowhere with no identification and no history in the systems? There'd be no place for us."

There was a crash heard in the distance somewhere, as if something had given in. Hicks knew that it meant that the storming crew had broken through and was now entering the secret complex. "It's too late anyway," he said dejectedly. "It won't be long until they get here and arrests us. What a drag! We save the world and we'll end up in prison for life for it!"  
The woman was a dejected as he. "I have the proof that we were framed, but I no longer dare to believe that I'll be able to present it. The Company's got people everywhere. They'll take measures to make sure that the truth doesn't get out.  
"It's so _unfair!"_ Ripley finally burst out, looking close to break apart. She leaned down and clasped Newt tightly to her. "I already lost one child – I can't _bear_ the thought of losing my other! Or you for that matter, Hicks."  
Hicks walked up to them and wrapped both of his arms around the females, leaving the three standing in a tight group-hug. They had been through so much the three of them – he hated the thought of never seeing the two of them again. "We'd have a better chance if we didn't get separated. But they'll never let us stand together… I'm sorry, but I am out of ideas! I don't know what we can do…"

Ripley was as much at loss as the corporal. She hadn't the faintest clue on what they could do to persuade the people of the law to let them remain together.  
Unbeknownst to the adults however, the young child did.  
The girl's acute senses detected that the storming crew was approaching outside in the corridor, so she figured that it was time to put her own little plan in action. She dug her hand into her pocket and her fingers came into contact with the special item she had secretly brought with her from the _Ghost Rider_. Carefully she fished it out just as the police stormed inside and barked their orders.  
 **"Freeze! Keep your hands where we can see them!"**  
Hicks reluctantly unwrapped his arms from the woman and child and stretched them up towards the ceiling. Ripley did likewise with her right arm. Her left she couldn't raise that high, because Newt wasn't willing to let go of her hand. Before the woman could start to convince the child to disengage her grip, Newt did something Ripley would never have expected her to do.

* * *

It was a weird sight when the prisoners from the complex was brought out on the tarmac outside the building. They were a mess; torn and bloody as if they had just been through war. But there was one detail that was more upsetting above all.  
"Are you out of your _minds?!"_ the captain of the police force raged at his men. "What were you thinking, putting handcuffs on _a child?!"_  
The male soldier was handcuffed, that was no problem. A bunch of soldiers had already come up to lay claim on him. But the woman was firmly holding the child's right hand in her own left. She couldn't do much else, because there was a nice shiny pair of cuffs tying their wrists together.  
"Unlock those cuffs immediately!" the captain barked.  
"We can't," a policeman stammered. "It's a military brand, not like ours. It wasn't _we_ who put those on, Sir!"  
"Well then, who did?" the captain feasted his eyes on the woman prisoner.  
"Don't look at me," the woman said. "Wasn't my idea!"  
"It was me," the girl said, looking proud as she made her confession. " _I_ put them on us!"  
"You? Why'd you do that?"  
"So that you wouldn't be able to take my mommy away from me!" The look of pride had been replaced with a stern determined face as she gave the captain her motive.

"Your mother?" The police looked doubtful that this was accurate, and it really didn't change a thing. "Well, sorry kid, but in accordance with the law, your 'mother' is to be taken into custody and you will be dropped off at the nearest child care center." The captain turned to another of his people. "Have the military fetch a key and get those cuffs off."  
"Err… Sir! That's an electronic pair of cuffs. There's no key. You have to punch in a code or a password to open them"  
The captain was growing impatient. "Well, what's the code, then?"  
"Won't tell you!" the girl said with a smile.  
"The password can be chosen, Sir," the subordinate confirmed.  
"I don't have time for games, kid!" the captain growled. "Open up those cuffs!"  
"No!" the girl said determinedly.  
"Get a tool to cut the chain," the officer snarled to his underling.  
"You can't do that!" Hicks suddenly spoke up.  
"Shut up, you!" said one of the soldiers whom had taken custody of the renegade corporal.

"And why can't I?"  
Hicks indicated to the cuffs Newt had lifted from the ship. "Those are of the new advanced pair of cuffs meant to escort political or military prisoners. Did you notice that they are color-marked? The blue end goes around the courier's wrist and the red goes to the prisoner. Usually it is the courier alone who decides the password to avoid tampering."  
"Yeah, so?" the captain asked growing even more impatient.  
"It so happens that the red bracelet, the one locked around the girl's wrist, contains a needle with poison which pricks the prisoner should somebody try to cut the cuffs or if the courier's pulse suddenly stops. It kills the prisoner if you don't remove the cuffs with the correct password!"  
"Is this true?" the captain asked the military men whom had secured Hicks.  
One of the soldiers nodded. "It's concentrated curare. Enough to subdue a full-grown man. To a child the dose would be deadly."  
"And you let her play with those?!" the captain raged at the captured corporal.  
"I told her to put them back! She didn't listen."

The captain turned to Newt. "Kid, don't you know what a dangerous game you're playing? I'm serious, you must remove them before something bad happens!"  
The girl smiled knowingly. "I'm safe as long as _you_ don't do anything." The captain's face dropped as he realized that the child knew exactly what she was doing.  
Ripley couldn't help but to be amused, despite the seriousness. "She planned this. She knew we'd be captured eventually. I always knew she was clever, but I never realized just by how much!" There was pride in her voice.  
"Look…" the captain feebly tried to reason with the girl. "There are laws that we have to abide with. And it's not like we're about to hurt your… 'mother'. We will take good care of her and you will be put under good hands while we sort this out. I promise that you'll see her again soon, if you will just open the…"  
"You're lying!" Newt rebuffed.  
"Of course not!" the captain said, but not without being baffled. Surely he couldn't be that transparent before a child?  
"Yes, you are!"  
"Captain, this isn't some regular child you're speaking to," Ripley said. "She's got a very insightful mind with the ability to see through false words - I wouldn't try to manipulate her like you are attempting. It will only make her grow more aversive to you."

"This has gone far enough!" a new voice interrupted. Two men came up: one a big burly-looking character with dark skin and the other a young runt with a furrowed face. "If she wants to stay chained to the broad, then let her! Have them all brought to our transport! We'll take charge of them from here!"  
The captain frowned at the two agents. "This is a police matter!" he told them.  
"The corporal stands under military authority!" the soldiers guarding Hicks said.  
"No, it is a corporate matter!" the dark-skinned agent rebuked. "They attacked an installation belonging to the company! We'll deal with this matter!"  
"Yeah, right," the captain snorted. "Like I'll let you have them after seeing how you dealt with the situation on the bridge? I think not!"  
The agent blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you so arrogant that you don't recognize me? I was leading the police force on the Golden Gate Bridge!"  
"What are _you_ doing _here?!"_ the younger agent sputtered as he made the connection.  
"What do you think? I'm a _hostage_ negotiator! I serve the New Mexico Police, but I happened to be in San Francisco when I was called in about the kidnapping case. I was there to try to talk the kidnapper into releasing that girl, but you blew both the crook and the poor kid off the road! I wouldn't entrust you with even a potato!"  
"So _you_ are the ones who tried to kill me over there?!" the child raged.  
"Shut up, you brat!" the other agent barked.  
"You don't tell her to shut up!" Ripley roared.  
The captain did a double-take as he took a moment to look past the dirt and grime smeared on the child's face and then he saw the resemblance from the provided photographs in the kidnapping case. "Wha…?! You're _her!_ You're _Rebecca Jorden!_ You're still alive?!"  
The girl said nothing, but she didn't deny it. Her pretending to be dead didn't seem to matter much anymore now when the threat of the terminators was gone.

"Look, what happened on the bridge doesn't matter," agent Bolton tried to collect the situation.  
"Oh, yes it does!" Ripley retorted. "If you tried to have her killed, then there's no way we'll go with you! We'd rather surrender to the police!"  
"Of course we didn't try to kill her…!" Bolton said.  
"It sure looked that way to me!" the captain pointed out. "What I don't understand is why?"  
"Because they want to have us three silenced," Ripley explained to the police officer. "The Company don't want us to tell the world of the crimes they have committed – the crimes they've framed me for!"  
"What crimes?"  
"Hold it!" Bolton barked. "That's classified information!" Afterwards he realized that he had just dug the hole much deeper.  
Newt pointed an accusative finger towards the agents. "It's because of the Company that my people on Acheron are dead!"  
"No! You don't know what you are saying!"  
"We have _proof!"_  
That was something Ripley had no not wanted to reveal in front of Company representatives, but the girl's anger had momentarily got the better of her. The color on the dark-skinned agent seemed to pale. "You do?"

Bolton was still trying to talk their way out of this, but the younger, more eager, and impatient agent Humphrey was now losing his cool. He stepped back and angrily began to mumble into his radio that was attached to his ear. "Fire! Fire, you idiot! Shoot them before they spill too much! Do it _now!"_  
Most of the police and military personnel were standing listening to the heated exchange between the captured perpetrators and Company reps, so none was paying any attention to the young agent as he issued a kill-order. None except for Hicks. As he had decided beforehand to let Ripley handle the talks, he had kept a close watch on his surroundings. He had a hunch that things might turn ugly, and it had just been proven right. Just by watching the body-language of the young agent and straining to hear his words, he could make out exactly what was going on. His military training did the rest of the math – _sniper!_ Thanks to his training, he could pinpoint the location from where a bullet would be shot from. No way he could get up to the point to stop the shooter, but he could protect the intended targets! Suddenly breaking away from his assigned warders, Hicks rushed up to where Ripley and Newt were standing and pushed them both down on the ground.

BLAM! Hicks groaned as the projectile intended for the females clipped the back of his shoulder.

The police captain was not stupid. It was quite clear to him that an assassination attempt had just occurred, and he ordered his men to scramble up to the high point of buildings where the sniper was probably covering. Medical personnel were already rushing up to treat the wounded corporal whom otherwise was already cared for by the woman and the child he had taken the bullet for. Agent Bolton turned to his younger partner with a reproachful look on his face.  
"That was stupid!" Bolton said. "There's too many witnesses here!"  
"They were about to spill everything!" Humphrey said in self-defense. "Besides, many witnesses weren't a problem on the bridge?"  
" _Fool!_ We had leverage on the fact that the old man was shooting back at us on the bridge! These people have already been detained, there's nothing that can justify us to take extreme action against that! Have you learned nothing?!"

It didn't take long before the police had apprehended and brought out the sniper. None of Ripley's team knew it, but it was the executive officer of the Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station with a high clearance that was the shooter. As he was brought forward, he practically begged for being released, insisting on his innocence.  
"It's not my doing!" the man cried. "I was only following orders! They told me to do it!"  
"Who did?" the captain demanded. "Who gave the order?"  
"They did!" the exec said, pointing at the two agents. "They told me that either I killed them or I'd be out of a job! I didn't want to, but I got a family…"  
"Preposterous!" Bolton snapped. "We're not in the business of shooting women or kids."  
"After what you did on the bridge," the captain said. "…I'm inclined to believe him."  
"Don't get any ideas!" Bolton warned the captain. "You know our lawyers will settle the matter in our favor!"  
"Only as long as the evidence is solid!" a new voice intervened. This time it was Ripley who did a double take, not believing her eyes. A man was approaching, this one looking like a dead ringer to the android Bishop.

"Mr. Weyland!" Bolton gasped, now looking nervous.  
"Only it appears that the solid proof is _against_ you this time, if I am not totally misunderstanding?" The agent gulped.  
Despite the ache in his shoulder, Hicks spoke lowly to Ripley: "Don't let his appearance fool you! That's not Bishop! Judging by the reaction of the agents, that's none other than Michael Weyland, the owner of the Company. It looks like Bishop had some kind of connection to him which we were unaware of."  
"The recent reports I've received lately has been a most disturbing bedtime reading!" Weyland spoke with authority. "What's been going on here? A space station wreaked havoc! A kill-contract on a child?! That's _not_ how this Company operates!"  
"It was those people there who made a mess on Sevastopol, Sir. We were just…"  
"I did not come here to listen to you prevaricate yourselves, Bolton!" Weyland snapped.  
"Sir," agent Bolton stuttered. "The special operations department has always worked to your complete benefit in order to achieve the results you require. Sometimes the situation does take ugly turns, but surely you understand that the end benefits from the cause. That's why special operations department…"  
"Special operations department can kiss my rosy ass! You're fired!"

"B… but, SIR…?"  
"You heard me, Bolton, you're _fired! Both of you!_ Get out of my sight!"  
The shoulders of the two ex-agents sloughed, and then they waggled away, their steam having totally gone out of them. Ripley and Newt watched them go, but neither could bring themselves to feel sorry for them. Those people had after all been part of the Company department whom had instrumented their individual incarcerations to keep them apart. The question was how much Michael Weyland had been part of it? Was he really an okay guy?  
Hicks gave the answer to what Weyland's intentions most likely were. "Don't be fooled by the act of reprimand to those guys Weyland just displayed," he said, holding on to his aching shoulder. "It's just for show. He's relieving himself of all responsibility by shifting the blame onto his minions and let them take the whole fall. Corrupted men have been known to do that way back in history."  
They could see how Weyland now turned to the captain. "This has gone way out of hand," the C.E.O. said with a perfect tone that would sound completely genuine to the untrained ear. He was a good actor. "I knew it was time to step in personally to set things straight. If I may, I'd like to have a talk with your prisoners in private."

The police captain really had no formal reason to grant the Company leader such a request, but he did. The C.E.O.'s power in the world was obviously a little too overwhelming to deny. With some hand-signals, he dismissed both medical and police personnel from the three survivors and left them a secluded area in which Michael Weyland could approach them. The three and the Company man now stood facing each other, tension rippling in the air.  
"I don't suppose an apology is adequate to diminish some of your hostility towards me?" Weyland asked straight out.  
"Drop the pretense, Weyland, you don't fool us!" Hicks spoke up. "We are fully aware that you sanctioned the programs which we were put through after our homecoming from LV-426! It was confirmed by Bishop through that 'Predictor' of yours!"  
"Fair enough," Weyland said, not losing a bit of his self-control. "Though I hope that it can make you understand why I had to do it. You must see it from _my_ perspective: I'm running a world-wide corporation, employing one-third of the Earth's population. We are living on the policy of being the friendliest employer there is – can you imagine what would happen if a scandal of a magnitude became publicly known? The stock-holders alone invests millions of billions of dollars into the Company; if our name became tarnished they would pull it all back! We're talking of a share-drop of eighty-four percent in stock! Surely you must understand that I couldn't afford taking the risk of letting that happen?"

Ripley couldn't believe her ears. "Of all the nerve… you're only concerned about _money!_ But what about _lives?!"_  
"I _am_ talking lives: the lives of those I employ. If the Company loses money, my employees will lose their jobs and the lives they're living."  
Ripley was not swayed. "And what about _our_ lives? I lost my daughter through time because of you! And what about my crew on the _Nostromo?_ This little girl's family?! Hicks' _team?!_ They're _all dead!_ Doesn't those lives mean _anything_ to you?"  
"Of course it does," Weyland said. "I'm no monster. It pains me greatly thinking of all the lives that has been lost. But surely you can't hold me responsible that things got out of hand?"  
"No, you just shifted the responsibility on to _our_ shoulders and made us the scapegoats!" Hicks said.  
"I stand by what I said: I had to keep the stock-holders interests in mind. I'm sorry, but that's how business looks like!"

"Releasing monsters into my colony is business?" Newt questioned. For once, Weyland looked troubled. "That was carter Burke's doing! Not mine!"  
"Now who's the prevaricator?" Hicks asked. A dark look came over the C.E.O.'s brow.  
"It was on Company orders that the _Nostromo_ set down on LV-426 fifty-eight years ago," Ripley pointed out. "We set down to get that creature – all other priorities rescinded! Whom are you going to blame that on?"  
Weyland finally lost his temper. "You are so focusing on the negative!" he spat. "Every evaluation we made concerning those creatures all showed that acquiring the species would allow science to take a gigantic step forward onto new levels! I admit that we made mistakes, not fully comprehending what we were up against! But the investments put into the operation would have paid us back multiple! Mankind would have benefited! If only you would've been willing to understand its remarkable… potential!"  
"That's the same bullshit I heard from Ash, and later from Burke," Ripley said. "I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now!"  
Weyland sighed. "You're not going to let it go, are you?"  
"Why would I? I'm already serving time in prison because of it!"

"Is that it?" Weyland asked. "You want out of jail? That can be arranged, you know. I can easily grant you your freedom. I'll buy out your contract and set you up for life – both for you and the girl. I'll even arrange something for the corporal. All I ask in return is that you drop your accusations against me. Put a lid on everything concerning the creatures and never talk about them again. They're already lost to me, so what more can you ask for?"  
"Retribution!"  
"I'm offering you a heavy compensation! Isn't that enough?"  
"I'm not going to let you walk out on this, Weyland! Your 'investments' for acquiring those creatures have destroyed hundreds of lives! Somebody is going to _pay_ for that by law, and I have no intention of taking the fall!"  
"Have it your way! Go ahead and take it to court – if you can! But I got funds where you don't! Any counsel for the defense you try to get to take the case I will buy out – everybody's got a price, more than you can afford! And without a lawyer, no court will be interested to re-try your case. You'll go straight back to jail, without accomplishing anything except losing your chance for freedom, as well as the chance of ever seeing that child again! My offer still stands though, if you change your mind."

"That's _blackmail!"_ Hicks growled in Ripley's stead. The woman had fallen silent as Weyland's words were sinking in.  
"No. It's business! Too bad that you can't see it." With that, Michael Weyland turned on his heel and was about to walk away, leaving the adults with no further arguments. Newt had one more thing to say, though. "You speak like Skynet!" she called after him.  
"Shush, girl," Ripley told her, as she didn't expect Weyland to know what the child was talking about. The adult could understand her though, knowing that the girl's emotions were in turmoil right now, having the man responsible for the trouble with the xenomorphs in front of her. The C.E.O. turned around again and gazed at the child.  
"Perhaps from your perspective," he unexpectedly said. "And perhaps I should thank you three for that. It was starting to become quite troublesome."  
"You knew?!" Hicks blurted out. "You were aware of Skynet?!"  
"Of course! It's not everybody who gets approached at a young age by a malevolent artificial intelligence. It wasn't until later though when it had taken over my android whom you knew as Bishop that I found out what its real plans were. It was Bishop who secretly warned me before he had been completely taken over. I had a crisis team assembled to figure out how to deal with the problem without losing face, but now you've solved it for me.  
"It's only because of that I advise you not to bring this incident up to court. They would file you all as nutcases. No one wants to believe stories of evil robots taking over the world."  
Weyland walked off again, and said in passing to the police captain as he was headed out: "They're all yours. You may take them away."

The military soldiers on the scene was immediately quick to come up and grab the corporal again. This time they began to haul him away to a waiting transport.  
"Hicks?" Newt almost wailed as she saw how her male adult friend, and closest (yet very distant) relative was brought away.  
"Don't worry about me, honey!" he called over his shoulder. "Just don't let yourself be separated from Ripley! Stay together and I will find you! I promise that I'll find you again!"  
The last Ripley and Newt saw of Hicks was he being brought inside the transport that would take him away to a military camp where he would face court-martial. Ripley wasn't sure how she could help him, and Newt was feeling guilty that she hadn't thought of slapping a pair of cuffs around his wrist as well to her other arm so that they could've stayed together all three. There wasn't much they could do about it now, as police officers now came to take them away in the next transport.

"Someone get a blanket to cover their hands," the captain ordered. "The journalists outside the fence will have a field day if they see us bring out a juvenile being handcuffed."

* * *

Author's notes: the 'Dermipatch' is picked up from the latest film: Alien Covenant. The name of the paste was found in the novel of said film written by Alan Dean Foster, so it's nothing I made up by myself.


	37. The unknown relative

Author's notes: In this chapter, there will once again be hints to the events that occurred in the game Alien Isolation as I had done earlier in chapter 24. I apologize again to those that are not that familiar with it, hopefully it won't get too confusing. I probably should give a spoiler warning though to be on the safe side: there's an important plot which I brought out from there to play a major part in the story.

On further notes, the unknown relative walking into Ripley's life in this chapter is my own creation.

On with the story…

* * *

The accommodations sure could have been a lot worse. The police had been at loss where they would put Ripley after they had brought her in to the station. Normally, since she was under arrest, they would have put her in a holding cell until the formal charges were raised. But with a seven-year old child chained to her wrist with handcuffs they didn't dare to tamper with, a cell was not an option. The scandal would be enormous if came out that they had locked up a juvenile behind bars. The only thing they could do was to put the chained couple in a visitor's lounge farthest in within the station behind a locked door. After a while the police concluded that the prisoner didn't need to be watched. The woman simply sat still in the sofa and was giving them no trouble at all. She hadn't even resisted arrest.

The child was stretched out beside the adult in the sofa resting her head on the woman's thigh. She was fast asleep, the last days' toll having totally worn her out. Ripley had her left arm draped over Newt's body so that she could hold on to the little hand that was positioned right above the young's chest – that way the chain of the handcuffs wouldn't be stretched. Ripley's right hand was free to tenderly caress the honey-blond tresses of the sleeping girl, soothing her so that she could give the child a more pleasant rest, and hopefully spare her of any otherwise re-occurring nightmares.

The door unlocked, and the captain that had lead the police force outside of the Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station came in with a coffee-mug in his hand. Ripley half expected the captain to try to interrogate her, but she had already made it clear to him that she would not say anything without a lawyer present – and that sure wasn't an easy demand. What lawyer was there that she could trust? The one she had before had proven to be corrupted, so he was out of the question. Weyland's last words still swam in her head: any counsel for the defense she'd try to get to take the case he would buy out. Weyland was going to make sure that Ripley went back to prison unless she agreed to drop all accusations. But she felt that that was something she couldn't do. If the Company went free of the responsibility, it would result in that the crew of the _Nostromo_ , the colonists of Hadley's Hope, and the team of marines: they all would have died for nothing. She couldn't just let it go and live with it. She'd see their faces and hear their screams every time she rested her head on a pillow, crying for justice.

The captain didn't seem interested in questioning her though; he only sat down in a chair opposite hers, observing the couple as he put his mug on a nearby table. His gaze came to rest on the sleeping child.  
"That's one heck of a kid," he remarked, remembering how she had totally outmaneuvered him.  
"You don't know half of it," Ripley said softly, continuing to gently comb the locks of hair with her fingertips on the girl. "It's in her genes… I recently learned that it is a family trait."  
"Is she your daughter?"  
Ripley didn't answer right away. "She's not of my blood, if that is what you mean. She is, however very close to me, as I am to her. Way more than you think."  
"I had it figured, considering how much she risked by her loyalty. I'd be feeling more secure if those cuffs got removed. You swear you don't know the code?"  
"I didn't bother asking – I know that she won't tell it."  
"Not until she is convinced that the two of you won't be separated?"  
"Exactly!"

The captain sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "As a cop, I got the 'nose': I have the ability to make a good judgement of people just by 'smelling' them – that's necessary in my line of work as a hostage negotiator. Personally, I get clear signs that you are definitely not what your charges accuses you to be. You're no killer…"  
"I most certainly am not," Ripley agreed.  
"But my judgement holds no credit in this case. It just isn't up to me… but my instincts scream to me that there's more going on here than what I am privy to know… I'll have you know that I am not comfortable with being held in the dark."  
"Neither am I. Never have been."  
"So what can you tell me?"  
Ripley had to smile. "Nice try. But my decision stands: I won't say anything without a lawyer. That's within my rights!"  
The captain held out his hands from his sides. "But you won't give me any names to call!"  
"That's because I can't be sure that I can trust them."

The captain grumbled in frustration. "This can't go on forever, you know. Sooner or later we will have to take drastic measures, and the outcome of that will not end up good! You two are going to have to make up your mind on how this will proceed, or we'll be forced to take it for you!" The captain went back for the door. "You can reach me on the intercom. Call when you need something."  
"Some sandwiches would be nice." Ripley replied.  
"Don't press your luck! You're still in custody and therefore not privy to that many privileges."  
"How about for her?" she asked, indicating to the still sleeping child on her lap.  
The captain rolled his eyes. "Christ, it is I who am being held hostage now… by a child! And she's not even awake to get her demands met!"

The sandwiches were brought in after an hour, but they were left on the plate as Newt slept on – Ripley didn't have the heart to wake her now that she was for once sleeping peacefully. It left her time to think about their current situation. The captain was right: this couldn't go on forever. But she couldn't for the world think of a way to get a lawyer that wouldn't be risk being bought out by the Company.  
Another half an hour passed before the door opened again. It wasn't the captain this time, this was a younger officer. "You got a visitor," he announced.  
Ripley squinted her eyes in suspicion. "Is he from the Company?"  
"No, but he claims that he's a friend who's been trying to get hold of you for the last year."  
Ripley grew even more suspicious. "I find that hard to believe. I don't have many friends or allies." There was truth to the statement. Ever since her 57-year long sleep, all her acquaintances from the past were to her knowledge all dead, and she never really had the time to form new relationships. Most of her time in the year that had gone by had been spent in jail.

"Well, he insists on seeing you," the young officer said, growing a bit impatient. "Do you want to receive him or not?"  
Ripley thought it over. What harm could there be done? This was a police station, surely there was no one in his right mind who would attempt to try to do anything stupid here? There was a metal detector in the lobby, no one could get in with an unauthorized weapon and there were plenty of cops in the building. They should be relatively safe, so she might as well see who it is who insists on wanting to see her. She nodded her approval and the officer went back out.

The visitor was unsurprisingly a stranger. He was a man over his sixties, and everything was thin about him. Thin body, thin face with thinning grey hair that was balding, thin eyes, and a thin mustache. It seemed that he had been wearied out from a troubled life which made him appear much older, and he displayed a somewhat insecure expression when he saw her. To Ripley's bewilderment he was holding his portfolio tightly over his chest as if he was trying to put up a protection barrier between them.  
"Ellen Ripley?" the newcomer asked. It was to the woman an inane question. Who else would she be? But she nodded in conformation anyway.

The visitor remained on his spot and twitched strangely. "Wow! This is really awkward… never in my life had I expected to finally meet you… I've heard much about you, but I never imagined how a meeting like this would be. It's weird… you're being so… _young_ , and I'm an old man…"  
"From my point of view, you're _making_ it awkward right now!" Ripley pointed out.  
"I'm sorry…" the man said, looking ashamed. "I really don't want you to get the wrong impression of me… I don't know how you might have imagined me…"  
"How I _imagined?!"_ Ripley asked, starting to get irritated. That woke up Newt, as she noticed how the atmosphere changed. The child rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she focused on the newcomer. Ripley went on with her reprimand. "Up until now, I didn't even know you existed, and I still don't know who you are! What do you want?"  
Now the man old looked bewildered. "They didn't give you my name? I've been trying to get a hold of you for a _year_ , ever since I heard you got back from outer space, but all I got in reply was refusals from you to see me…"  
"Not from me," Ripley said. "Although it is not the first I've heard that the Company have been writing letters in my name." She was looking at Newt as she explained this, remembering how they had tricked the girl into thinking that the adult had turned her back on her. "I've been in isolation, with no contact with the outside world, whatsoever."

"And here I thought it was pure luck that you've finally relented and agreed to see me," the man said, suddenly looking angry. "That _blasted_ Company…!"  
So this man hated the Company too? That was interesting. "Well, here we finally are," Ripley said, shrugging. "So, what is it you want to see me about? For starters: who are you?"  
The old man looked nervous again. "This was not expected… I always thought that you knew… Hrrm… then this might come as a surprise for you…" The man composed himself and stood himself straight. "My name is Rodney McClaren."  
The last name rang a bell, but Ripley couldn't remember where she'd heard it. Then the man dropped the bomb. "I'm Amanda's husband. I'm your son-in-law!"

* * *

It took Rodney McClaren to show the pictures of his family-album in his phone to convince Ripley that he was who he claimed to be. The image of the elderly woman Carter Burke had showed her a little over a year ago had been undistinctive and impossible to reconcile with the memories Ripley had of her biological daughter – but the pictures that showed the couple in their younger years spoke out with more familiarity. Although Ripley was looking at a grown woman in the photos, she could make out the distinctive lines of the face and the eyes. They looked very much like her own, that was how she recognized her offspring. And though the husband looked younger and healthier in those pictures compared to the frail human sitting beside her now, she could make out the resemblance there as well, which told her that the photos were not fakes.  
"In the beginning of our relationship and a bit into our marriage, Amy spoke of you a lot," Rodney said to her. "Naturally she was concerned that you never returned home as you had promised, but she was convinced that something bad had happened… and she got it confirmed. Did you know that the flight-recorder of the _Nostromo_ was recovered?"  
Ripley turned her head towards the other in an instant. This was news to her.

"It had been brought aboard the first Sevastopol space-station," Rodney continued. "Amy managed to get there. She didn't want to tell me what had happened over there, but she did manage to get to the recorder and replayed the last entries… she heard your personal message you had left her, Ellen. Mind if I call you Ellen? She knew that the Company had set you up for a covert mission that you weren't meant to return from."  
Ripley was listening to every word Rodney was telling her, feeling her heart pounding. She had never told a single soul that she had taken the time to record a last message to her daughter aboard the _Nostromo_ when everything else was lost and she was sure she was going to die.  
"Amy wowed that the Company would answer for their crimes when she returned to Earth – that's when she looked me up. She needed a lawyer that shared the same aversion for the Company as she did…"  
"Wait!" Ripley interrupted. "Are you a _lawyer?!"_  
"Didn't I say? Anyway, I was still in the beginning of my career when Amanda approached me. She knew that she couldn't take down the Company by force, she needed to hurt them with laws. I was singled out because unlike the others, I refused to be bought by the Company. Other young accountants and lawyers were hired to wrench the law to Weyland's favor in any way they could and was handsomely paid, but I wouldn't let myself be corrupted. Unfortunately, that decision cost me a quick way into getting a grand reputation, so I have been making my way through the years as one of the lowest lawyers that no one was willing to hire.

"Ever since we met, we've been digging and turning over every rock we could in our attempt to confront the Company and prosecute them for their crimes, but their walls have just been too impenetrable. And the years just went by and… well, in the end we had to face the facts that there just wasn't enough we could find that would give us any leverage to bring Weyland to court. By then we were already growing old and it wasn't long after that when Amy was diagnosed with her cancer. But she was still thinking about you, Ellen. I confess that I was skeptical, but Amy was convinced that you were still out there somewhere. That's why before she grew too weak she wrote this…" McClaren brought out a thick envelope from his portfolio which he handed to Ripley. "On her death-bed she made me promise that I would carry this with me… she believed that you would eventually come back and that I should do everything I could to look you up and give this to you. It's a letter. It's personal, so I haven't read it."

It was with a shaking hand that Ripley took the sealed envelope. A letter from her daughter! She was both excited and terrified at the same time to read it, but she had to know what it said. There were quite many sheets inside, but the woman was determined to read them all! Newt sat quietly by her side, keeping her cuffed hand on the woman's thigh so that the chain wouldn't be taut. The child wouldn't say it aloud, but she was feeling a little jealous and abandoned. Ripley's mind was all fixed on a dead person instead of her. But she waited patiently, knowing, as well as hoping, it soon would pass.  
All was quiet in the lounge while Ripley read the letter. As she got through sheet after sheet, tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. When she was finally finished, she turned her face up towards the ceiling with her eyes closed to compose herself.  
"What did it say?" McClaren asked carefully. "Was it something bad?"  
"No," Ripley whispered and smiled. "She forgave me."  
McClaren nodded in understanding. He already knew that much of his late wife. "Amanda had a strong, and determined soul, but she also was of a righteous and understanding nature. She never put blame on anyone she knew wasn't responsible for the mess."  
Ripley nodded. That sounded just like the child she had given birth to and raised.

"It must feel good now, just as it does to me," the man continued. "I have kept the promise to the woman I loved. Yet I can't get over that I actually managed to do it. Can you imagine my surprise when I learned that you had returned and realizing that she was right all along – that you were still out there under all this time? I went to Gateway Station the moment I got the news… but by then you had already left heading back to LV-426, although I couldn't figure out why?"  
"It was something I had to do…" Ripley answered. "It was a debt I owed… although I didn't know at the time whom I owed it to." She wrapped her arm around Newt and hugged the child to her chest. "This is Newt. She's the last survivor of the colony on LV-426, and is just as much of a victim to the Company's crimes as all of us were. Everything I've done lately has been just as much for her as for me. I'm seeking retribution for both of us, for Amy, and for a soldier whom was arrested at the same time as I, but he was brought somewhere else for prosecution.

"There was more in the letter," Ripley continued. "She asked me to continue the work with you, to keep trying to find the proof we need to bring the Company down. We need to work fast though, as we're cutting it close with your illness and all."  
Rodney McClaren barely cocked an eyebrow. "She included that, did she? It's kind of funny, really… when we married, I warned her that I would pass away before she did, yet here I am and she isn't. I'm suffering from a disease which slowly causes my organs to deteriorate and shut down, one at the time. The first to go in my youth was my reproductive systems… I've been sterile since childhood, that's why we never had any children. I've been going through several treatments since then to prolong my life. I've replaced heart and lungs three times, all financed by my darling wife, otherwise I'd already be dead. I've stopped the treatments after she died though, I didn't see the point with it anymore. My liver and kidney are already gone, and I won't go into details of my digestion systems.  
"The point is, I'm a dying man. Although it is my greatest wish to fulfill the final wish of the woman I loved, my time is too limited to do it. According to my doctors, I should already be gone. Unless you can provide me with something that carries a tremendous weight against the Company that would bring them to their knees, I don't see how we can make a difference."

"Newt, give me the USB-stick." It had been one of Ripley's instant brainstorms, to let the child keep the USB-stick in her pocket before they were arrested. Ripley knew that there was a great risk that she would be searched, and the memory-stick would be confiscated and made disappear… but hopefully the authorities wouldn't go as far to frisk a little girl, and they hadn't.  
Newt fished out the stick and handed it to Ripley. The child didn't know what to make of this man Rodney McClaren, but she trusted Ripley's judgement to trust him. Ripley in turn would never under any other circumstances trust a man she only recently just met, but she did trust her daughter Amanda's judgment. If Amy found this man honorable enough to marry, then he had to be okay in her book.  
"The information in this was obtained from one of the Company's most guarded storage banks," Ripley explained as she handed the stick to her son-in-law. "It contains every dirty scrap of detail concerning what the Company did which caused so many deaths and destroyed properties and what they did to cover it up, including framing me! The secret order for the _Nostromo_ to change course, cover stories, crew replacements, insurance frauds… everything!"

Rodney McClaren was looking at the stick with new-found exhilaration. "If what you say is true, then this isn't just dynamite: it's an atomic bomb!"  
Just then the young police officer poked his head through the door: "Visit's over!" he called.  
Ripley called back. "He's not a visitor. He's my lawyer!" The young officer looked totally dumbfounded and closed the door without another word.  
"I will review this thoroughly," Rodney said. "I should be able to find what I need to file a formal charge against Michael Weyland, and I will write a request to, with your consent, re-open your case and take this to court!  
"But Ellen, I hope you understand… in order to formally take position as counsel for your defense according to the rules, you will need to go back to a cell. You're going to have to remove those cuffs."

It wasn't an easy task to persuade Newt to give up the password for the special military-brand handcuffs. She cried and almost screamed, as she was certain that the police or other people would make it so that she wouldn't see the adult again if they got separated. She was terrified of the thought of being alone again. Ripley had to use every trick in the book to calm the child down and managing to convince her that it was a necessary course of action and that they wouldn't be kept away from each other indefinitely. The son-in-law would take charge of her and provide with a temporary residence so that no one would get the idea to haul her off back to her hated school in Washington. Newt was as emotional as the child she was, but she did also have a wisdom that was older than her actual years, so after a while she finally relented. The password for unlocking the handcuffs was one Ripley should have figured out herself: Casey. The name of Newt's favorite doll.

The captain was called in and he got genuinely surprised to see that the cuffs were removed and Ripley was prepared to go to a cell as the regulations stated. Rodney McClaren would fill out the necessary forms at the desk which would allow him to take the woman's case and he would file a request ensuring that she would not be transferred anywhere else before the trial. No one asked about Newt. As she was a juvenile, the police had no right to hold her there, so she was free to go.  
It was with a heavy heart Ripley watched Newt walk out of there, but it was necessary to play it by the rules. And she felt certain that the child would be safe with her son-in-law. And she would soon see her again during visits – the though brought Ripley some comfort.

"Well?" Ripley said to the captain, sounding strangely cheerful. "Are you going to show me to a cell, or not?"


	38. Justice

Author's notes: this chapter has been updated!

* * *

Ripley's trust with the son-in-law that had unexpectedly walked into her life had not been misplaced. Her late daughter's husband was an honorable man who was fully intent to do everything in his power to make his mother-in-law into a free woman. As her lawyer, he was free to visit her in prison whenever it suited the two of them, and they were carefully laying up a plan how they would proceed to expose the Company to the world how corrupted and ruthless they really were. The Company had grown way too big and too powerful over the last century, to the point that they truly believed that they stood above the law, and it was time to bring them back down to ground-level.

Every time Rodney McClaren came to see her, Ripley always popped the same question before anything else was said: how was Newt?  
Rodney had taken the child to his own home and allowed her to stay in Amanda's old bedroom which had remained undisturbed ever since the older woman had passed away. Because of the husband's illness, they had separated bedrooms as he had to sleep in a sterile environment, and he never had either the will or the heart to clear out the room after Amy's death, so it was ready to accommodate the girl. The old man had taken the liberty to do more than that after he had observed her panicked behavior on the police-station: not only had he through his contacts called in a private school-teacher to help the girl pass the time and making sure that she kept up with her education, but he had also booked some therapy-sessions for the child. Newt's trauma from her ordeal on LV-426 was long overdue to be dealt with, and it didn't make matters any better that she had lived a rather stressful life during the year after. Newt had been an opponent to it at first, but after some time she began to respond as she found that it helped to release the burden when talking about it. It helped a lot for both woman and child that McClaren always brought letters between the two of them every day. The correspondence helped Ripley to cope with life in prison.

Ripley had been back in prison for a week after they had destroyed Skynet, and Rodney McClaren have used the time to study the new evidence thoroughly and had his client fill up all the blanks. And now as he had the whole picture clear to him, Rodney had come up with a plan.  
"Here's the thing, Ellen," the son-in-law said to Ripley. "The Company's lawyers fully expect us to charge them with the incident of the hostile creature the _Nostromo_ was ordered to pick up on LV-426 by Company orders. Knowing them, I expect them to deny everything and use the hearing they made after you got back as leverage to claim you being psychologically unstable."  
"Can we convince the judge otherwise with the new evidence?" Ripley asked.  
"From our current point, I'm afraid not. They have the records of the inquest where the board members declared you responsible for blowing up the ship and thereby killing your shipmates and destroying the cargo. That weighs higher than anything we can present."  
Ripley's face fell. "But the evidence…?"  
"The court won't be interested. To prove the evidence valid, it needs to be verified by the Company's own documents, and we are nowhere near important enough to ask for a warrant to search those files for verification. The Company knows this. In fact, they're counting on it."

"Then I'm _doomed_ to be imprisoned for the rest of my life!" Ripley wailed, close to despair.  
"No, Ellen, you won't be," Rodney said quickly before the woman lost it completely. "But we're going to need to let the Company believe that they will win the trial! Their arrogance will let down their guard."  
"What are you planning?" the woman demanded.  
"I'm going to take them by surprise. _We_ won't be the ones instigating the first charges against them!"  
"If not we, then who will?"  
Rodney smiled. "I've sent copies of certain parts from the documents you provided to the Insurance Company who compensated Weyland for the loss of the _Nostromo_. To be precise, I gave them the details of the altered flight-order which made the _Nostromo_ change course. The Insurance Company knows that the _Nostromo_ set down on LV-426 for as the records states; repairs. But they don't know the true reason behind it since they have been kept in the dark of those details. If they were to find out that it really was Michael Weyland himself who orchestrated the detour to get his hands on a potential dangerous lifeform…"  
"…they'll demand back _every nickel_ they paid the Company for the loss of the _Nostromo!_ " Ripley finished, now calm again. This was exactly what Bishop/Skynet had warned her of, the reason she and her friends were put away after their return.

"It's a clear case of an insurance scam," Rodney continued. "And since the insurance companies has the support of the state itself, _they_ will have the leverage to file a warrant for searching Weyland's files to corroborate the accusations. Since Weyland believes that the first trial will be against you, he will be caught unprepared. If the insurance investigators find the truth, they will sue the company for the swindle – and the true story will be exposed! The media will have one heck of a field day. When the first trial is over, _that's_ when we make our case! The Company won't be able to deny the truth anymore since it will be declared by court that it was by their orders that the _Nostromo_ set down there. They'll be totally disarmed!"  
"You know, you could have been one cunning and dangerous lawyer had you persuaded other agendas," Ripley said, now smiling.  
"The things you do for love," Rodney replied. "The love I had for Amanda."  
"The Company will attempt to buy you out, you know."  
"Let them try! I have nothing more to lose – but much to gain! And I do kind of hope that they will try. Then I can put in an attempt for bribe in the charges as well."

* * *

It went exactly as Rodney McClaren had anticipated. When the insurance company caught the smell of the swindle concerning the _Nostromo's_ destruction, hell literally broke loose for the Weyland-Yutani Company. Michael Weyland had not at all been prepared for the arrival of the insurance investigators coming to his doorstep with a warrant, giving them every right by law to look through his private files to look for evidence of the scam. And they found what they were looking for.  
Weyland tried in futile to deny all knowledge, but his private files contained the same documents that was lifted from the predictor.  
What Michael Weyland had failed to understand was that he was never a true businessman like his ancestor Peter Weyland. He had been nothing but a figure-head, controlled by Skynet! The A.I. had been the true power behind the throne, building up the domestic power of the Company during the years that had passed. But now as Skynet was gone, Weyland no longer had the proper guidance to steer him out of the trouble, and it would prove to be his downfall. Without the predictor which had been Skynet's mainframe of operations, Michael Weyland was nothing!

The trial of the insurance scam was well under way a couple of weeks later and the headlines of the news reported new revelations becoming known every day. Already the Company's stock was dropping and the scandal was a fact. But it was nothing compared to what was to come.  
Rodney McClaren came to visit Ripley as he did every day to bring her updates, but today, to the woman's joy, he had brought Newt with him. "It's Christmas," the son-in-law explained. "I thought it would be something both of you would need." Ripley had totally forgotten that it was that time of the year, the last events having totally preoccupied her mind and making her lose track of the date. The child immediately jumped up on the adult's lap for some hugs and kisses, and after Ripley had spoiled the girl with those cravings, the lawyer got down to business.  
"I've arranged for you to be called to the witness stand, Ellen," Rodney said to the woman. "Since you were there personally, your testimony will be invaluable. But you must remember, this trial isn't about your freedom. We're not there yet. This trial is to declare the extent of the Company's guilt for deliberately altering the _Nostromo's_ flight plan and swindling insurance money. The prosecutors and the jury won't be that interested in your experienced terror with the lifeform. I recommend that you stay cool and unemotional. It's frustrating, I know, but I need you to focus on the relevant details the prosecutors want to hear. Just be patient. Your time will come."  
Cool and unemotional. Sure, she could do that. As long as it brought the Company down.

"When will you get out of here?" Newt asked, still sitting in Ripley's lap.  
"Hopefully not much longer, Sweetie," the adult replied. "It won't be for the next couple of weeks, but Mr. McClaren is working on it."  
"But I miss you… it being Christmas and all…"  
"I know, honey," she said, kissing the top of the girl's head. "I know. I miss you too… so very much."  
"The consoler I got for her said that it would be good for her if she got to see you from time to time, so I will try to bring her a little more often," Rodney said. "…but also, so that we can discuss between us what needs to be said and how we will say it when the time comes. I'd like you both to write down depositions of your recollections on everything that has happened. It will be good to have them ready once this trial is over and we can put your case on the show."  
"Hicks' testimony would also be valuable." Ripley's tone sounded urgent. "Have you heard anything about him?"  
"Nothing, I'm afraid." McClaren was regretful. "I've made some inquiries, but the military won't give anything up. But I did promise to provide them with some details from the USB-stick to help his case. That's all I can do for the moment."  
"At least it's something," Ripley said.

* * *

It wasn't until after New Year before Ripley got to stand in the witness booth, giving her version of what had happened fifty-eight years ago - but she handled her witness session with flying colors. She didn't let her emotions flare, instead she gave her testimony briefly and accurately, telling the jury everything that had happened right down to the relevant detail. The life-cycle of the xenomorph and the battle against it was left out, it would be saved for later. All the prosecutors needed to know was that it was because the Company wanted the creature that made them sacrifice the crew of the _Nostromo_. And a few days later, the court declared that the Weyland-Yutani Company was guilty for deliberately using the commercial tug for an unsanctioned mission which ultimately led to its destruction. The insurance money the Company received for the loss was to be refunded immediately, together with quite a large sum of compensation to the insurance company for the swindle. Phase one of Rodney McClaren's plan was complete.

"We've wounded them deeply now," Rodney said to Ripley after the verdict was announced. "We need to twist the knife in their wound before they recover. Now when we have taken away their cover for denial as it has been proven by law that they were responsible for the disaster of your ship, it's time to set the strike. I will hand in the request for re-opening your case this afternoon now as these new facts has been brought into the equation. The court for justice can't dismiss it anymore, they have to review the possibility that you have been wrongly accused."

In the days that followed, the stock-market went into a turmoil when the media released the news that the Weyland-Yutani Company was called to answer to yet another possible crime in court. Wild speculations were thrown all over the country: What other crimes had the Company done? Has the Company been conducting illegal biological experiments? What was the story of the rumored hostile lifeform being discovered on LV-426? What were the Company's plans for it? And what of the colony that had been settled on that rock? Why did it blow up, killing all the inhabitants? What was the connection to the lifeform having been discovered there, and how much did the Company know?  
When it became clear that the Company had been involved in quite a number of shady operations which had resulted in massive death and destruction, the stock-holders immediately sold every share they had in Weyland-Yutani, knowing that those papers might soon become worthless. Even the partners and dealer shippers with the Company began to back off, cutting the lines. If the Company was about to get flushed down a drain, they did not want to be dragged along with them.

* * *

"I know that it is probably hard to believe – that my claims sound quite farfetched. But I guarantee you: those things _exist!_ I have no idea where they came from, or what their connection to that pilot of the crashed ship were. But whatever backstory they got, the very unnatural and ghastly life cycle of theirs alone should tell any sane man to stay away from them as far as anyone could. Whatever the Company would think that they could gain by capturing a creature like that is beyond me."  
"Miss Ripley, please refrain from telling us your personal implication of the Company's motives," the judge said. "Just give us the facts as you have experienced them."

Ripley accepted the reprimand and went on with her testimony. "As I had stated in my deposition, which was deliberately ignored by the Company's board of inquiry…" Here she threw a glance at the man who was acting counsel to the Company. It was none other than Van Leuwen, the man who had questioned her after she had returned from her long journey in space and who had discarded her story completely. He sat beside Michael Weyland, giving no sign of what he thought of Ripley's claims. Weyland on the other hand looked very annoyed.  
"Miss Ripley!" the judge warned again.  
"Sorry," she said and continued: "As I said, we set down on LV-426 on Company orders to get that thing. It took just one of them to wipe out my crew." Ripley didn't know how many times she had gone through this story in her head, how many times she had relived the nightmare in her dreams every time she went to sleep. She knew it by heart, and she hated every time she had to replay the events through her head. But this one time it was necessary to do so again – to tell the world the true story on what had transpired almost sixty years ago. It was the day of the trial where her case had been re-opened, the moment where she would seek her retribution for all wrongdoings the Company had caused her.

She continued to tell the people present: Judge, jury, journalists and several spectators, the stages of the Xenomorph and how one had latched onto her crewmember Kane's face. There were many raised eyebrows and other distinguished reactions coming when she spoke of the gruesome birth which had killed Kane. Many of the spectators looked skeptical, but it wasn't those people she had to convince.  
It wasn't until she told the part of the _Nostromo's_ science officer Ash's involvement and how he was following the special order 937 which basically rescinded all other priorities when the other side finally reacted.  
"Objection!" Van Leuwen called out. "There's no such thing as a special order 937 in our policy directives! That is made up!"  
"Is it now?" Rodney McClaren retorted as he stood up to answer the challenge of a false claim. "Then how do you explain that we have it right _here_ in our evidence? Allow me to recite: 'Special order 937 Science Personnel eyes only restricted information.' Under it, it clearly states: 'Bring back lifeform. Priority one. All other priorities rescinded. Crew expendable!'" Rodney handed the copy to the judge for him to verify. "It may not be found on your official policy chart, but your science department seem to have a more extended list! It was also corroborated by Weyland's own personal files. So how can you claim that special order 937 is a fraud?"

"Objection overruled," the judge announced. Van Leuwen threw his boss a sour look. "There really _was_ a directive of that kind?" he asked in a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me? Now I made fools of ourselves!"  
"Because it was a sealed file not meant for anyone else," Weyland growled in reply. "And I was recommended by the Predictor to _keep_ it that way! Besides, I didn't think it was of any importance, it was written sixty years ago!"  
"If it's connected to this, _of course_ it was of importance!" Van Leuwen pointed out. "If you want me to get us out of this mess, then you have to play it straight with me! I can't do it with just bits and pieces! They obviously managed to acquire the whole lot!"  
"And how the hell did they manage _that?"_ Weyland raged. "They should never have been allowed to leave with the information! They should have been…"  
"Don't say anything that might be overheard by the wrong ears," Van Leuwen cautioned.  
"But they _broke_ into my facility to get those files! Why aren't we pointing that out, that she is trying to liberate herself from a crime by having committed another?"  
"Because the _military_ has taken over that charge," Van Leuwen pointed out. "They believe it was the _corporal_ who led the assault on the complex which resulted in a radiation alarm going off, as well as causing the trouble on the Sevastopol space station before that - so they're going to use it against him in _his_ court martial. Since it has become a military matter, _civilian_ Ellen Ripley is per result off the hook of that responsibility."  
"That's nuts!" Weyland snorted.  
"That's the way it is now, whether we like it or not."

While the two discussed, Ripley resumed her testimony. She was recalling the android Ash's treachery, allowing a dangerous organism into the ship against regulations, later protecting the creature and his attempt to kill her just before he was exposed. The android was meant to make sure that the acquirement of the species went ahead as planned, with no regard to the welfare of the crew. Before Van Leuwen could stop him, it was Michael Weyland this time who intervened in her story.  
"Objection! My robotics department has always made sure to put in safe guards to prevent androids from going rogue when building the synthetics! We only got your word that he was trying to kill you – but how do we know that it wasn't you who somehow damaged him to make him go awry? We can't be held responsible for a malfunctioning android if it was you yourself who damaged him!"  
Ripley gave Weyland a reproachful look. "In what way could we have damaged him since we never knew beforehand that he _was_ an android? For us he was just the new Science officer! One with controversial ethical motives!"

Rodney McClaren stepped forward again. "Yes, one who according to the files was conveniently replacing the former Science Officer of the _Nostromo_ right before it left Thedus." For a man living with a terminal illness, he looked very much alive here in court. This was his playground, giving him energy and made him vigorous.  
"Objection!" Van Leuwen spoke up. "You're implying that we had some kind of agenda with the Science Officer being replaced, but it really doesn't prove that we did! And may I also point out that Miss Ripley was also transferred to serve aboard the ship at the same time!"  
"But she isn't an android," Rodney retorted. "So why don't you explain to us what the purpose for the synthetic were?"  
Weyland wasn't swayed. It looked like he was prepared for this particular challenge. "I need to point out that this was sixty years ago – back then the android program was still in the early developing state. Ash was part of a field test to determine how well they could blend in with a small group of people since we were attempting to have synthetics interact with humans without differences being noticed. Had we informed the crew of his true nature, the purpose of the test would have been incomplete."

"He broke the quarantine law to let the lifeform aboard!" Ripley snarled. "Was that part of the field test?"  
"No. It is more likely that he did it out of loyalty of the crew…"  
" _Loyalty?!"_ Ripley questioned.  
"His job was to maintain the welfare of the crew. Most likely he made the decision that the executive officer was in greater risk of dying outside the airlock rather than within the infirmary. It's all part of the programming, that's something you can't hold against us."  
"He did it solely to get the creature aboard – by _your_ orders!"  
"That's what you _want_ to believe – that doesn't mean that it's true!"  
The judge banged his club at the desk. "Order! Order!"  
An orderly came up and whispered to the judge: "It's word against word here. But the jury feels that the nature of an android carries greater weight."  
The judge nodded. "Objection sustained." Weyland sat down, looking smug. It angered Ripley that the score was now even one to one. Rodney came up to calm her down. "Don't let it get to you. Some small defeats were anticipated, but in the end, it won't matter, depending on the final verdict. Just go on with your testimony."

Ripley continued her tale, telling the people how the creature wiped them out, one by one. After Captain Dallas had been taken and Ash's true nature had been exposed, the rest of the crew came to the decision to abandon ship and blow it up.  
"How come you reached that conclusion?" Rodney asked. "You could have left the ship, but why blow it up?"  
"We couldn't drive it out from the airducts to expel it, and we knew that we couldn't allow such a dangerous organism to reach Earth. We had to destroy it! I don't think the Company ever understood from the pre-records of the derelict's signal what kind of dangerous creature it really was!"  
"Objection!" Weyland stood up. "My experts assured me that…" Van Leuwen quickly silenced him before he could go on, but the damage was done.  
"Well, your experts were _wrong!"_ Ripley spat.  
"Is that a confession from you, finally, Mr. Weyland?" Rodney asked sweetly.  
"I only meant that…" He stopped himself and sat down. "I withdraw my objection," he muttered.

Ripley wrapped up her story from the events of the _Nostromo_ and jumped ahead to the recollections after her fifty-seven year-long hyper sleep, being suspended and declared mentally unstable, and learning of the colony having been established on LV-426. There wasn't much to tell until she learned of the lost contact with the colony and going back as a consultant together with a couple of marines. They found the colony in ruins, every inhabitant gone, save for one survivor. The xenomorphs had been responsible, but Ripley emphasized that it was by the orders of Carter Burke that the coordinates of the derelict was to be checked out and allowing hell to break loose.  
Rodney stepped forward. "Here I would like to present to the court the evidence from the log sent to the colony." He gave the judge the sheet. "It says: 'Company Directive Six Twelve Nine, dated 0-6-1-2-7-9, signed Burke, Carter J. Proceed to inspect possible electromagnetic emissions at the following coordinates…'."  
"Objection!" Weyland called. "Carter Burke was acting without our consent!"  
"But you did nothing to countermand it, did you?" Rodney shot back. "In fact, by the time that you found out, you instead sent your personal android along the rescue team to supervise the operation!"  
"Of course!" Weyland said. "I was concerned for those colonists. I felt responsible for them!" Weyland believed that he had won sympathy for himself with the statement – but Rodney McClaren took that away from him.

"If you really felt responsible for those colonists, then why did you allow a colony to be established there in the first place? You _knew_ what was there! Why didn't you declare LV-426 as off limits after the _Nostromo_ operation failed?"  
There was a small uproar coming from the crowd of spectators.  
Van Leuwen spoke up: "Look, we're a big Company with several departments and divisions. It's difficult to spread the right words to every section. The department for surveillance of worlds suitable for colonization couldn't possibly have known of the potential danger!"  
"But this Predictor of yours knew, didn't it?" Rodney dropped in Weyland's lap. "Its purpose was to receive all kinds of new information there were…"  
"Objection! That is classified information and you have no right to…"  
"Objection overruled!" the judge interrupted.  
Ripley remained quiet at this point. She had to be careful not to let it slip her knowledge about Skynet being the main power within the predictor. Everything about the terminators had to kept a secret, she hadn't even shared that knowledge with her son-in-law. Because with nothing to back it up, who would believe a story of killer robots coming from the future? That would give her a one-way ticket to the nut-house.  
"You were in direct contact with the Predictor!" Rodney continued. "You had every way of knowing beforehand what might have and did happen on LV-426, but you did nothing to prevent the disaster!"  
Another uproar was coming from the stands. "Order!" the judge called out.

"Your Honor," Van Leuwen addressed the judge. "It is still only her words of what has transpired onboard the _Nostromo_ and on the colony of LV-426. Frankly, we require more evidence for the existence of this rumored creature Ellen Ripley insists on being a genuine article."  
"Actually, Your Honor – I agree." Rodney stated. "We need a second opinion. Unless the Company's counsel would like to question my client, I will allow her to stand down."  
The judge threw a glance at Van Leuwen, but the man declined. He planned to thoroughly interrogate the woman later once all the facts had been presented.

"Calling Rebecca Jorden to the stand!"  
Ripley gave Rodney McClaren a startled look. He hadn't told her that he would bring in little Newt to stand witness.  
The child came in through the side door, looking small, frail, and alone. She glanced nervously around, cringing under the looks of curiosity the spectators gave her. Ripley resisted the urge to rush up and take the girl in her arms to protect her, as it wouldn't look tactically good at this point.  
"I _object_ to this witness," Weyland barked. "What's this mere child got to do with anything? What could she tell us?" It was just a game from Weyland's side. He knew perfectly well who she was, and he feared that her testimony would give the opposing side an unfair advantage.  
"She's got _everything_ to do with this," Rodney shot back. "If Your Honor would just allow me to proceed?"  
"Objection overruled!" the judge said.  
Rodney motioned Newt to the witness booth and she sat down, wringing her hands. When Rodney addressed her, he used a very soft tone, quite unlike the harsh one he used against Weyland.

"Please state your name for the record," Rodney said.  
"Rebecca Jorden," she replied in her small voice. She didn't add that she preferred to go by her nickname, it would be reserved for the people closest to her.  
"Miss Jorden, what is your connection to LV-426, or Acheron as it was known?"  
"I was born there."  
"Were you happy there?"  
"Well… yes. I had my friends… my brother and…. my parents."  
"And where are they now?"  
Newt looked down to the floor. "They're dead!" she whispered. "All of them."  
"You are the only one left of the colony? The only survivor?"  
"Yes."  
"What happened to the other colonists?"  
"They were taken… by monsters!"  
"Where did those monsters come from?"  
"From a ship… it had crashed beyond the outer rim of our city."

"How did you come by it? What persuaded you to go out there to find that ship?"  
"The head of staff, Mr. Simpson, had gotten this note which told us to go out there. He asked for volunteers, and… my dad took it. He took us… my mom and us kids… and went out there. We found this big space ship…"  
"Was it recently crashed?"  
"No. My folks believed it had been there for quite some time…"  
"What happened then?"  
"My mom and dad went in. And when they c-came out…" Newt stopped, choking on her words. Her eyes searched for Ripley for support, and the woman gave it, giving a look for encouragement. "M… my dad had this… _horrible_ thing on his face!" She slapped her hand to her mouth, breaking down in tears.  
"This thing resembled some kind of a hand with eight fingers and a tail?" Rodney asked softly. The child nodded, unable to form the words.  
Weyland saw his chance. "Objection! He's leading the witness!"  
"Overruled!" the judge growled, growing really annoyed with the Company man. Even Van Leuwen was troubled by his boss' constant outbursts.

Rodney gave Newt a moment to compose herself while he addressed the judge. "I ask the court for favor to skip ahead in my questioning as we are already aware from Ellen Ripley's testimony how the lifecycle of the alien entity proceeds. Miss Jorden has already confirmed that we are speaking of the same creature."  
"The court approves." The judge said.  
"I do _not!"_ Weyland called out.  
"Oh, do shut up!" someone from the crowd said, loud enough for everybody to hear.  
"Who said that?" Weyland stood up in frustration, looking around. It made the judge slam the club on the desk repeatedly. " _Order!_ Mr. Weyland, sit _down!"_ The company-man complied, but quite angered.  
"Mr. McClaren, continue!"  
Rodney turned back to Newt. "Your father was the first to fall victim to the creature. Were you still by the ship when he died?"  
"N-no. A rescue-team had brought us back to the city. He… he d-died in the infirmary."  
"What happened after?"  
"M-Mr. Simpson organized several search parties to find the b-beast… b-but they all disappeared. I overheard stories from others saying that sometimes they would find bits and pieces of the men… and sometimes much, much worse… and later we became aware that it was no longer just one beast, but plenty… a-and it wasn't long after that when we were completely overrun. We had put up barricades everywhere to hold them off, but they always got through… a-and then t-the monsters took them all, except for me… I hid in the airducts. They couldn't reach me in there…"

"How long were you alone?"  
"I… I'm not sure… I lost all track of time… it made no difference anymore…"  
"But eventually someone came for you?"  
"Yes... that's when Ripley came, together with a couple of soldiers."  
"Your friend Corporal Dwayne Hicks was with them too, weren't he?"  
"Yes."  
"Were those people any match to the monsters?"  
"No!" she said determinately. " _No_ one is! Well… except for Ripley."  
"So you didn't feel any more secure when the soldiers came?"  
"No. I didn't want them there! I knew their presence would only make more monsters."  
"What happened to them?"  
"They died by the hands of the monsters… as I knew they would!"  
Rodney now turned to the court. "A highly trained team of marines: considered best of the best… and they couldn't do anything about this threat! Ellen Ripley were brought along as a consultant: she tried to warn them, but no one was interested in listening, were they?"  
He turned back to the witness booth again. "Were all the soldiers taken at the same time?"  
"No. Some escaped, thanks to Ripley. But they weren't so cocky anymore."  
"What was the next course of action?"  
"To leave. But a monster had gotten aboard the landing craft. It crashed. We were trapped."  
"What did you do?"  
"We sealed ourselves in within the complex. Ripley and Hicks took charge. They were hoping to hold them off until a rescue would arrive."  
"And did it?"

"There wasn't time. Something happened to the atmosphere processor. It was about to blow. Later I learned that Bishop had gone out to the satellite dish to call down another landing craft. But before it arrived, the monsters came for us again, as they always did. We narrowly escaped, but the others except for Ripley and Hicks died. And I… I was c-captured."  
"The monsters finally got to you?"  
"Y-yes. One of them brought me down to the dungeons underneath the processor, where they had taken the rest of my people. I was… I was so frightened. I was sure I was going to die. But Ripley came after me… she got me out of there, but she had to battle a queen monster to do it. But we did manage to get aboard the other landing craft Bishop had brought down."  
"What happened to all the monsters?"  
"They're gone! The atmosphere processor blew – it destroyed the whole city. Only the queen escaped, as it had stowed away onboard the landing craft. Ripley managed to throw it out through the airlock, or it would have killed us all."  
"So in the end: who had survived?"  
"Me, Ripley, Hicks, and Bishop. We were going to Earth… but when we got there, the Company _separated_ all of us!"

"We will come back to that in a moment." Rodney now turned to the court again. "As you have heard, Miss Jorden's story matches perfectly with Ellen Ripley's testimony, which just proves my point: my client has been _falsely_ accused for being responsible for the death of the 158 colonists of Hadley's Hope! The colony was already lost when she arrived, so have could she have caused it? And since we got confirmation from Miss Jorden that those creatures originated from an alien ship, it only leads to believe that there really was an alien entity aboard the _Nostromo_ which wrecked havoc to the ship – all under the orders of the Company!"  
"Objection!" Weyland barked.  
"Overruled!" the judge said.  
Rodney turned to Newt once more. "Miss Jorden, do you believe that Ellen Ripley is responsible for the destruction of your colony?"  
Newt sounded indignant. "No!"  
"Are you sure? It was Ripley's ship that first found the derelict which contained all the eggs. Had she not returned from her long journey, the authorities on Earth might not have found out about the location of it and had them send out your father to it."  
Ripley was beginning to think that Rodney were going too far. Surely he wasn't trying to stick a wedge between her and the child?

"It wasn't her fault!" Newt said with a slight edge to her voice. "It was the Company who did it!"  
"Why do you think that?"  
"Because they tried to _kill_ me!"  
"In what way?"  
"Carter Burke locked me and Ripley in with a couple of face-monsters attempting to put them inside us!"  
"I'll present the court a section of the mission-report written by Cpl. Hicks which the military were kind enough to provide me, which verifies that incident. Carter Burke was attempting to smuggle a couple of specimens past the ICC quarantine, to get those creatures into their bio-weapons department. A quick way for him to make a fortune, and quite a reputation for the Company, would it not?"  
" _Objection!_ " Weyland said again.  
"Overruled!" the judge repeated.  
"Let's get back to what happened after you returned to Earth," Rodney said to Newt. "Why do you think you were separated upon your arrival?"  
"To keep us silent!" Newt said heatedly. "They didn't want us to spread the word what had happened! That's why they framed Ripley and put her in prison!"  
"You're quite certain it was to keep you from talking?"  
"Yes! But I ran into some problems and had to escape my confinement! Rather than having me run loose, they tried to kill me again!"  
"How?"  
"There were agents of the Company trying to kill me on the Golden Gate Bridge!"

"Objection!" Van Leuwen now called. "We are not in the habit of assassinating little children! There's nothing to verify that accusation!"  
"Actually…" Rodney said. "I have here the statements of the police officers called to duty on the bridge which verifies that the two agents indeed were deliberately wrecking that car in which she was traveling that could only have resulted in the occupants' deaths."  
"But she's here… so have could it have been an attempt of murder if she wasn't in the car?"  
"A friend of the family I didn't know before I had, my uncle Bob, protected me. He made sure I got out of harm's way."  
Ripley relaxed. Newt was smart enough to exclude all knowledge of the terminators too. The adult felt an immense pride for the girl.  
Van Leuwen tried a different approach to defend themselves. "Okay, I'll admit that we had some agents that went way too far – but they have been reprimanded for it! They been removed from our service for overstepping their boundaries."  
Newt gave a stern look to the Company representatives. "But that doesn't justify the fact that you _spied_ on me! You gave me a bugged phone! But the fact that you kept me under surveillance and reading my notes wasn't the worst insult – it was that you knew perfectly well that my grandparents and my class mistreated me, and you did nothing to stop it!"

"Preposterous!" Van Leuwen said, almost laughing. "A bugged phone? What do you take us for?"  
"Don't deny it!" Newt snarled. "My uncle Bob discovered it!"  
"And can you present that phone to prove it? Can your uncle step forward to verify this claim?"  
Newt looked away, feeling her face going red with regret. Her anger and disappointment had driven the argument too far, and she couldn't back out now. "No. He's dead. He sacrificed himself to save us on that base. And the phone was… it was destroyed when the agents blasted the car off the bridge." A truth with modification. She had in fact asked Pops to destroy it under his heel after that event. But to keep his true nature out of this, she deviated a bit from the truth – not by much, but enough. The girl sought Ripley's eyes again. The adult looked angry, but not at her to her relief. It was anger for how the Company had treated her.  
"This is a farce!" Weyland said. "Surely you can't believe such fantasies from a child?"  
"Is it really fantasies?" Ripley questioned. "I heard this story from her 'uncle' Bob – he told me that he was travelling to San Francisco in an _untagged_ vehicle! It couldn't be traced, so how did your agents know which car to intercept, unless your agents _didn't_ track her phone?!"  
"The testimony from the police officers on duty on the bridge confirms that fact," Rodney pointed out. Van Leuwen looked taken aback as he didn't have an answer to that detail.  
" _Objection!"_ Weyland burst out.  
"Overruled!" The judge retorted.

"It was still those two agents who went too far," Van Leuwen mumbled in attempt to salvage the situation. "And they were fired for it…"  
"Fired for it _weeks_ afterwards!" Ripley pointed out.  
"Look, you have to see it from _our_ perspective…!"  
" _Your_ perspective?" Rodney McClaren stepped forward again. "I've got your _perspective_ summed up right _here!_ It has already been established by court from an earlier case that the Company deliberately changed the _Nostromo's_ flightpath, sending it and the crew to LV-426 to acquire a potentially hostile lifeform. They were aware of the danger it presented, but sacrificed the crew nonetheless to get their hands on the creature. Their plans were foiled, and to cover their losses, they put up an insurance swindle, telling the public that the _Nostromo_ had been lost with all hands under unclear circumstances.

"Fifty-seven years later, a crew-member: my client Ellen Ripley returns and tells a story which could compromise the Company's façade of being an honest corporation, so they declare her psychologically unfit and revokes her license – all to keep her quiet. Junior executive Carter Burke takes interest in the story and sends a message to LV-426 which during Ellen Ripley's absence have had a terraforming colony established there, telling the colonists to check up on the derelict from which the hostile organism originated. When the Company learns of this, they do nothing to stop it! Instead they see a new chance to obtain an alien specimen, giving no regards to the welfare of the colonists."  
" _Objection!"_  
"Overruled!"  
"The colony is lost, but Ellen Ripley who went there to aid the people escapes one more time, but this time she brings more survivors. The Company realizes that if more people get to tell the world what really did happen, they decided to separate the survivors to keep them from talking. To cover up their own intervention in the disaster, they shift the entire blame unto Ellen Ripley and has her put in prison!

"So, I'm asking the jury, which side of the story offers the most credit? Do we believe the Company's side that this woman is a coldblooded killer? This woman who risked her life to make sure that a dangerous organism such as we have heard of would never reach Earth, who rescued this innocent little girl? Is the organism really a fraud?  
"Or shall we believe this woman who has been unjustly framed to cover up the crimes the Company itself is responsible for? The Company who with pure greed sacrificed the entire crew of the _Nostromo_ for the sake of seeking new investments? The Company who was about to put our world in peril as they totally defied the danger the organism presented? Had they succeeded, our whole _civilization_ would have been wiped out, just as the poor souls of the colony on LV-426 perished to the creatures, just so that the Company could make another fortune!"  
"OBJECTION!"  
The judge slammed the club so hard unto the desk so that the handle was close to snap in half. "Mr. Weyland, if you object one more time, you will be held in _contempt_ to court!"  
"I've presented all the evidence," Rodney continued. "There is no doubt that my client is innocent and she should therefore be set free. So unless my honored opponent can present a different view to the matter, I rest my case."

All eyes now turned to the other party, and Ripley could see to her great satisfaction that Van Leuwen had already given up. Michael Weyland on the other hand as not yet ready to give in. He strode to the witness booth which Newt had already vacated and faced the public.  
"I definitely would like to give a different view," he said. "The Weyland-Yutani Company has always strived on to be an honest corporation and we would never…"  
" _Murderer!"_ someone shouted.  
" _Lousy capitalist swine!"  
"Order! Order!"_ the judge demanded.  
" _My son was on LV-426!"_  
" _And my daughter!"  
"They had children of their own!"  
_Everybody could see that everything was quickly going out of control. The judge had no choice but to break the session and vacate the chambers. As security guards went in to get the crowd in control, Rodney McClaren quickly ushered Ripley and Newt out of there.

"They're out for blood," Ripley said out of breath, holding Newt close to her.  
"As expected," Rodney said with a smile. "Most of the spectators in there had relatives on LV-426. I discreetly let them become aware of that we were going to expose the truth about the disaster and what happened to their loved ones. No matter the verdict, the public will be on your side, and the Company will be in for a massive suing-cases after this. This will be their death-blow!"  
"You're one devious lawyer, Rodney!"  
"That has always been my finest trait," he said proudly while fingering his moustache.

* * *

A couple of days later, Ripley was back in court. She had expected to be questioned by the other side now, but it turned out that Van Leuwen had abandoned the case and ran off. Now when the public were against them, he feared for his own safety. So the final verdict was to be announced prematurely.

"It is by decision of this court, that in light with the evidence presented and the fact that the opposing attorney has failed to show, it has been concluded by the jury, with the balance of nine votes to eight, that former warrant officer Ellen Ripley has been falsely accused for the murder and the destruction of commercial tug the _Nostromo_ with all hands and the colony with population on LV-426. Ellen Ripley is hereby cleared of all charges and is to be set free immediately. All licenses revoked will be reinstated. Sum of compensation for the time Ellen Ripley has spent in prison will be settled later. The wheels of justice grind slowly, but they grind fine. Case dismissed!" 'Bang', the club hit the desk.

Ripley could hardly believe it. She was free! It felt weird walking out of the court without having security guards escorting her and not heading back to prison. Outside the courthouse, she was greeted with journalists who bombarded her with questions and demands of statements. She answered some questions, but was quickly attempting to get out of there. When she finally managed to do so, she met up with Rodney McClaren in an attorney's office across the block.  
"We did it, Ellen!"  
"There's no way I'll be able to ever repay you for this, Rodney."  
"There's no need. This was personal. I did it for my wife, and for my mother-in-law. This has been a life-long dream. How I wish Amanda was here to see it."  
"You and me both!"  
"This is a cause for celebration, don't you think?"  
Ripley suddenly had a very serious look on her face. "Not yet! There is one more case I'd like you to take."  
"Oh, I 've done everything I can for Corporal Hicks, but the military won't let me in."

"I know that. However, it's not about him."  
"Oh," Rodney said as it dawned on him what was on Ripley's mind.  
"Now as I have been declared innocent by law and clear of all charges, I want what is mine!" She dug her hands into a portfolio which she had been carrying with her and fished out some papers which she handed to her son-in-law. "I request full custody! No, scratch that – I _demand_ it! It's not negotiable - until she comes of age, she is to be _mine!_ I won't have it any other way! And I know that she wants it too!"  
"The bureau for adoption might have a different view of the matter." Rodney warned her.  
"That's why I want you to make my plead. You have a devious trait to get things your way."

* * *

There were quite many tears of happiness coming from both adult and child when Rodney McClaren came to his home with Ripley. The girl's consoler was also there, so Ripley took the moment to learn how Newt's therapy sessions had proceeded and what was done to overcome her trauma. Now as the adult was back in the child's life fulltime, the prognosis of recovery looked much better. Ripley almost had a hard time living in the same room that was once her daughters'. There were trinkets and personal possessions from the past within the room which Ripley never believed she would lay her eyes on again. The past had rushed up and collided with her a little bit too quickly, but for Newt's sake, she coped with it.

It took a few weeks, but on March the fifteenth, conveniently on Newt's eight birthday, Ripley received the news she had been waiting for: the adoption had been approved. Rodney admitted that it had only been possible by informing the bureau that the child would most likely run away again if she ended up with someone else. Ripley didn't care how Rodney had done it, it was only the result that mattered. The McClaren's house held the biggest celebration it had ever seen that day. They had gotten their retribution, they were free and the Company was on its way downhill with no stopping. And the best of all, Ripley and Newt could now face the future as mother and daughter by law.

* * *

Author's notes: Just two more chapters remain… one a wrapper-up and a short epilogue. It will feel both good and sad to let this story go.


	39. The new Connors

Author's notes: Please note that chapter 38 has been updated… some new details have been added.

* * *

Seven months later, in October – one year after the three terminators had arrived in Oregon Desert… ex-corporal Dwayne Hicks stepped off the bus near Wisconsin cemetery. He had spent his last nickel to get here, because he didn't know where else to go. This place in a field of the deceased was his last chance to pick a slightest trace of the people he wanted to find, whom he had promised to find all those months ago outside of the Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System Receiving Station in New Mexico. Such a long time had gone by since then, and things in the world had changed extraordinary lot.

As Hicks walked towards the gates, he spied an old newspaper lying beside a trash bin – the headline spoke of the same thing it had done in the past half year: the effects of the chaos that had sprung up after the Weyland-Yutani Company had permanently gone out of business. He hadn't been able to follow all that had happened during the time he had been incarcerated during his court-martial, but the Company had been sued above their ears from several different parties and many of their business-partners had pulled out early, taking several economical support-incomes with them. As more of Weyland's immoral actions had been exposed, the court had in the end injuncted them a ban on carrying out their business. Everything that was connected to them was closed on a whim and unemployment was suddenly raised to almost unmanageable levels. Since the Company was so involved in many areas, the country of the US had no choice but to seize all assets and reinvoke them under new managements to salvage the situation. Everything Skynet had predicted had come true. The Company was no more and the rest of the world was still picking up the pieces they had left. It would be a long time before everything was stabilized again.

Hicks belonged to the unemployed now. He had been fired from the army with dishonor for his actions last year. Nothing else had been expected. The only thing that had kept him going after that was the promise. During the summer he had been walking around, listening to rumors, and following up traces, all which had ended up in nothing. The failures had really gotten to him: by now he was unshaved, unbathed, and dressed in an old grey long-coat that should have been disposed to the junkyard long ago. The cemetery was his last hope – after that, he had no idea what he was going to do next.

Hicks walked inside the premises. It was mostly deserted, he could only see a blond woman in the distance visiting one of the graves - but he found the keeper of grounds, and old man, doing his chores near one of the crypts while smoking a pipe.  
"Excuse me, Sir," he addressed the older man. "It has come to my knowledge that you got an Amanda Ripley McClaren buried here, am I right?"  
The old keeper of grounds looked the newcomer over suspiciously. "Ya ah relative?"  
"Actually, I'm looking _for_ a relative to her."  
"Ah dead one?"  
"No, a _living_ one!"  
The old keeper squinted his eyes while chewing on the pipe. "Then why're ya looking 'ere? We ain't housing any live ones 'ere!"  
Hicks kept his temper under control, but it was a hard task. "I'm looking for the one whose _paying_ for maintaining the grave today. It used to be her husband, but I found out that he died recently. I know that he's buried here too."  
"If ya know so much, then ya should know that it look mighty suspicious that a stranger come here looking for people he claims to know, but obviously don't!"

"look, I'm only asking for information on who it is whose paying for the graves!"  
"What's yer business with them?" the old keeper asked.  
"I fail to see what concern that is of yours?"  
"How do ah know that ya got the right to see that person, eh? Ya ain't looking like a proper dude, ya know, maybe yer someone who ain't supposed to find this person, eh!"  
"That isn't the case!" Hicks growled.  
"That's what they all say! Ah think ya should get out'to 'ere now, buddy boy!"  
"Look, I made a promise to find this person!"  
"Oh yeah? To whom?"  
To whom? Hicks knew that if he told this annoying keeper of grounds the truth, it would probably only make the old man grow even more suspicious of him, and perhaps escalate in a situation Hicks didn't need to have right now. Veterans weren't exactly the most respected people, especially not the ones whom had been fired from the army. Other people used to think that that those were just grumpy people who felt like outcasts despite all that they've done for their country. Hicks didn't need a scene, so he gave up. He turned on his heel and walked off towards the other end of the cemetery. There was no point of going back to the bus stop, he had no money to pay for the fare. But now he felt totally lost – what was he supposed to do now? He was totally out of ideas and of resources. There seemed to be no way he could find the people he was looking for from here on.

Hicks prepared himself for a long walk back to town and to look for a shelter for the night. On his far right he saw that blond woman in the distance again, with her back to him. On his left he was about to pass a bench: on it there was a young girl hunched over what appeared to be a cat box beside her, and she was busy cooing with the feline inside, so she was turned away from him. Probably the daughter of the woman, he thought. There were some travelling cases piled up around her.  
"I know you don't like being in there, Jonesy," he heard the girl say to the cat. "but it will only be for a while longer. Soon you'll have a whole forest to explore. It will be okay."  
Hicks stopped in his tracks. There was something about the way that girl was speaking, the low tone and the speech pattern. He had heard it before. As he glanced back, he also found the posture familiar, and that honey-blond hair. Although shampooed and with ribbons in, it had that typical tousled look which another little girl he knew used to have, but surely it couldn't be…?  
"Newt?"  
The girl looked up in surprise and allowed Hicks to see her face. And he could see that it really was her! The surprise in her face fell off and was replaced with an overjoyed smile. She jumped off from the bench and rushed into his arms. "Hicks! You found us! You finally found us!"  
"I was really starting to think that I never would, kiddo!" he said as he squeezed the tiny body to his. Then he released his hold and took a good look at her. The girl was changed since the last he saw her: hair neat, although it still was somewhat tousled - she was probably going to have that forever… brighter eyes, although he could still see the trace of her troubled life in them… more color in her cheeks instead of the pale skin she'd had since their first meeting on LV-426 and it was no longer so shrunken, which told him that she was eating better now. Casual clothes, but not rags. She was a little beauty - Ripley had done a good job with her.

"Where have you been?" Newt asked him. "We haven't heard a thing from you!"  
"I'll be happy to tell you all about it, kiddo… but first: where's Ripley? Surely you're not out here all by yourself?"  
"Of course not," she said as if it was a silly thing to think. She pointed behind him. "There she is."  
Hicks looked behind him and did a doubletake. The blonde woman?! But then he recognized the face that was framed by the straight tresses. With no curly and dark locks, she looked like completely different person.  
"Dwayne," the woman greeted him with delight and hugged him.  
Hicks hugged her back. "Ellen, you look so… well…" She absolutely didn't look bad, he was just surprised that she had undergone that change. The woman seemed to understand his bewilderment.  
"This was done out of necessity," she told him. "I was too recognizable out in the streets. Although we had every right to our side when we sued the Company and destroyed them, the former employees were quite angry with us for making them lose their jobs. They were not as quite forgiving as you would expect. By straightening out my locks and dyeing them blond, I gained a bit of a new anonymity."  
"Doesn't she look great?" Newt said.  
"Flatterer," the woman said with a grin and stroke the girl's jaw with a fingertip. "We even changed our names… we go by 'Connor' now. A tribute to Newt's ancestor Sarah… if it hadn't been for her, I sincerely doubt that Pops would have come into our lives the way he did, protecting Newt, and helped us gain retribution. So, I helped Newt reclaim the name and then adopted it to me as I am her legal mother now."

"So that's why I couldn't find you," Hicks commented. "I looked for the wrong name."  
"Yes, sorry about that. I was trying to contact you, but the military wasn't very forthcoming with forwarding my messages. They wouldn't even tell me where they held you."  
"At least I had some help… I understand that it was your lawyer who provided the army the evidence helping me in my case."  
"Yes, Rodney… my son-in-law." The woman looked a little sad. "Hadn't it been for him, none of us would be standing here now."  
"What happened to him?"  
"His illness got to him, just shortly after the adoption of Newt got through. I had him rushed to the hospital and was prepared to do anything to save his life… but he refused treatment. He told me that his purpose was fulfilled and that he was ready to join his wife – he could do it now without any regrets. He really looked at peace when he passed away. He's buried here, beside my daughter."  
Hicks nodded in understanding. "Wish I could have met him. I have a feeling that if I had him as a lawyer, I would have gotten out easier from the court-martial than I did."  
"What did they do to you?"

"They were ready to put me up before a firing-squad. Not literally, but they weren't very happy with me for breaking military rules and stealing the prototype ship. But they understood why I did it… that I did all that because my life was at stake. They wouldn't admit it, but the army apparently has more knowledge of Skynet and terminators than we think. And I did expose an industry spy within area 51 at the same time, which gave me some extenuating circumstance in my case.  
"In the end they decided not to throw me in jail, but I was discharged from the army… with dishonor."  
"Dwayne, I'm so sorry."  
"It's okay. Maybe it was time for a new career-move anyway."  
"Do you… have any plans?" the woman asked.  
"I must admit that I haven't thought that far ahead. I wanted to make good of my promise to find you first." He threw a look at the bench behind the child. "But it appears that you have plans. All those bags… are you going somewhere?"  
The woman looked a bit nervous. "Actually… we're about to leave Earth."  
Hicks jaw dropped. "What? You… you're leaving?"  
"There's nothing for us here… not anymore. The population is against me for destroying the Company, and Newt has a family with a grudge on her shoulders."  
"The Horsepower family," Newt grumbled. "They still blame me for Bianca's death."  
"They obviously vowed that Newt would never have the chance to get a proper education, let alone a job in the future… but their influence doesn't extend outside this solar system.

"There's this planet: Avalon, in the Omega IV system, quite far away from Zeta II Reticuli I might add… there's a newly established colony there, and from what I heard, they are happy with the Company being gone. It means that they are free to develop the colony by their own without having to follow the rule of Weyland. I used the money I got as compensation for the injustice the Company had done to buy us a bit of land there. A cabin will be waiting for us. It's a lush planet, green with forests and beautiful oceans. Not everybody can go there… it's said to be a paradise."  
"I… see." Hicks had a hard time hiding his despair. He was going to lose these two people again.  
"I'm here to say goodbye to my daughter…" Ellen rambled on. "Then we're heading for the space port hotel, as soon as the cab shows up. The ship for Avalon leaves in two days."  
There was a lump in Hicks' throat. "Good thing I… found you then… before you… well…"  
The woman didn't know how she would go on, to tell him what she wanted to say. It was Newt, bless her heart, who innocently yet eagerly threw the question.  
"Hicks, you will come with us, won't you? Please?"  
Hicks gave her a saddened look. "Sweetie, right now I can't even afford a ticket to town."  
"You don't need it!" she said as she grabbed on to his hand. "We got you covered! Look!"

Hicks looked back at the woman with a questionable look. Ellen Connor, the name she went by now, held up a couple of tickets. Not two, but three.  
"It's a really good thing you found us, Dwayne. I wasn't sure how I was going to leave this for you to pick up. Surely you didn't think that we would leave you behind here, after all we've been through together, all what've you done? Newt's right, you know… we would really like you to come with us. It doesn't seem like you got something here left for you, anyway?"  
Hicks looked between the woman and the girl several times, not really believing what he had just heard. "That's… a decision you can't make on a whim," he said. "I need to think about this…"  
What were the options? A life here on Earth with a dead career with no home and no money, or a life on a paradise planet with a woman and a child which he held dear to heart? It didn't even deserve to be contemplated!  
"How can I refuse an offer like that?" he said with a grin. Newt jumped back into his arms for another hug, and the woman joined in. "At least allow me to carry your bags to make up for some of the expenses you've spent on me," he offered as he finally was released from the two females.

It was mostly the handbags they'd carried with them. Ellen explained that most of her deceased daughter's possessions she had wanted to save from the McClaren's house had already been packed and shipped off to the spaceport way ahead. The rest had been sold. Hicks took most of the bags, but Ellen took the box with the animal herself. "What's with the cat?" Hicks asked. "A pet?"  
"Not a pet," Ellen said. "Another survivor. This is Jones, the ships cat of the _Nostromo_. Poor guy. He's been in a storage stasis ever since I left for LV-426 and he's been there the whole time while I was in prison. It was only after Rodney had died that I could finally collect him. Fortunately, he never knew I was gone for that long, and he has gotten real taken to Newt."  
The three began to walk off towards the parking lot of the cemetery where a cab was expected to show up soon. The adults walked on one side each, carrying some loads, while the child walked in between, holding on to each of their free hands. She was so happy. It felt like she had both a mother and a father again.  
"I still think he should be named 'Pops' instead of 'Jones', the girl said.  
"He won't answer to anything else, honey," Ellen said.  
"Don't you think 'Pops' would be a good name for him, Hicks?"  
"Hmm, sounds more like a name for a dog rather than a cat," the man replied.  
"Does that mean I can have a dog too?" she exclaimed excitedly.  
"Now look what you did!" the woman shook her head.  
Hicks was bewildered. "What did I do?"  
"You let yourself be manipulated by her! Be on your guard around this girl, Dwayne, she knows how to talk people into topics other than which you believed you were discussing, just so that she can throw her true wishes at you when your off guard!"  
The girl giggled. "Who, me?" But then she grew serious. "Hicks… do you believe Pops made it back in time okay?"  
"I have no doubt of that, sweetheart."  
"I wish I could see him again."  
"Maybe one day, kiddo… maybe one day…"

* * *

Epilogue:

The planet called Avalon was precisely as what the talks about it had said: it was a newly colonized world, filled with forests and vast oceans. The soil was perfect for farming, the air was clean, and the weather was like the conditions of Earth. It was a paradise planet, which was what the Weyland-Yutani Company had originally intended – it was supposed to be a retirement-planet for the wealthy, with common people who was building up the colony being employed by the rich people to be their servants - but now as the Company was out of business and no longer in control, the first inhabitants of the colony could make Avalon into their own and make up their own rules. The personnel on the settlement thus far was adequate, so there were really no positions open for people wanting to come just for the sole reason of living in paradise itself. Only those who could afford to buy a piece of pre-arranged land and pay for the trip could come there, but the people of the first settlement was going to make sure that the new-comers would know that if you wanted to live there, you had to play by the rules of the new order: no wealthy retired industrialists was to expect to come to Avalon thinking that the first colonists would bow to their bidding!

There were never any problems with the Connor-family who moved in however, quite the contrary. As soon as they came to the planet, they were immediately volunteering to help in the work of building the settlement. It turned out that the new couple had some talents and experiences the first colonists didn't know that they lacked, so the new people were quickly accepted. The woman, Ellen Connor, had a flexible imagination, which made her an expert in organizing stores and equipment – it only took a few months before she had become responsible for warehouses and manifests on Avalon.  
The man, Dwayne Connor, was not only muscle-power, but as an ex-military he had some experiences with settling disputes that was inevitable to happen, and since he was also an expert with arms, he became an unofficial sheriff on the planet.  
Even their daughter was a treasure: not only were Newt Connor kind and smart, but she believed in fairness. She would be seen tutoring fellow students in school with subjects the other children have trouble to comprehend, but in cases were bullying might occur, she always took the victim's side. She knew what it was like to be bullied and alone, and she would not have that happening to a fellow colonist.

Other than that, the new family wouldn't tell much of their past, and the colonists soon stopped asking. As long as the Connors did their part and remained on the level, their history wasn't that important. But their family-motto would always raise some eyebrows whenever the colonists heard it being spoken: 'The future is not set. There's no fate but what we make for ourselves.' The significance behind it was a real mystery, and there was always whispers if it had some religious meaning or if it was something else. Had they ever gotten to hear to hear the _other_ family-motto however, the one that was never spoken aloud except when it would be deemed necessary in the future, the inhabitants of Avalon would really get confused. For generations to come, the secret motto was to be passed on, in case it would ever be necessary to act on it again.  
'Remember: Genisys is Skynet!"

* * *

Author's notes: Not really the end yet – one more chapter to go!

If you've seen the movie 'Galaxy Quest', you will get a fair idea how Ripley looks like with blond hair. The last chapter will be up shortly…


	40. The forgotten trinket

Epilogue 2:

In the year 2183, at Crystal Peak, in the secret fallout shelter for the VIPs of the country, a maintenance crew came at the scheduled tenth-year replacement procedure for storage and equipment. It was a disturbing discovery to see that intruders had been there – the table was set with dry and stale left-over food and the work-shop was in disarray. They wondered what had gone wrong with the prompt-code security on the surface – _no one_ should have been able to come here! Yet all evidence stated that somebody had.

As the maintenance crew cleaned up, they made a startling discovery. On the table they found a tiny device that didn't look like anything that belonged there. The intruders must've brought it, and forgotten to take it with them. Later investigations of the device revealed it to be an advanced chip – a CPU of some kind. They had no idea where it could have come from - all they could tell was that it was much more advanced than anything they had ever seen before - the complexity beyond their imagination…  
Needless to say, it got a group of scientists to thoroughly study the device, inspiring them with ideas they never would have thought up – it was a head-start technology set years ahead.

What the consequences of the discovery of the device will be, the CPU of the X-Terminator unintentionally left behind by ex-corporal Hicks and an old cyborg, will eventually be revealed, as the unknown future rolls towards us…

THE END?

Author's notes: And that's it! This story has been quite a journey with many personal trials and challenges. I haven't decided yet if there ever will be a sequel to this… I have some ideas, but they are not fully developed. Time will tell.

I'd like to express my thanks to everybody who has been following this story, who has reviewed and given me support. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. Until next story… (Whatever that will be.)


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